A    DEFENCE 


OF 


PHILOSOPHIC     DOUBT 


A    DEFENCE 


OF 


PHILOSOPHIC     DOUBT 


BEING   AN    ESSAY    ON 


THE    FOUNDATIONS    OF  BELIEF 


BY 


ARTHUR  JAMES   BALFOUR,  M.A.,  M.R 


^IFOK^I^ 


»  ! ••  \  •  \  \ 


MACMILLAN      AND      CO. 
1879, 


The  right  of  translation  is  reserred 


70-3 


'As,  to  the  religious,  it  will  seem  absurd  to  set  forth  any  justification 
for  Religion  ;  so,  to  the  scientific,  it  will  seem  absurd  to  defend  Science. 
Yet  to  do  the  last  is  certainly  as  needful  as  to  do  the  first ' 

Herbert  Spencer 

'A  doctrine  is  first  received  as  an  intuitive  truth,  standing  beyond  all 
need  of  demonstration  ;  then  it  becomes  the  object  of  rigid  demonstration  ; 
afterwards  the  demonstration  ceases  to  be  conclusive,  and  is  merely  probable  ; 
and,  finally,  the  effort  is  limited  to  demonstrating  that  there  is  no  conclusive 
reason  on  the  other  side.  In  the  later  stages  of  belief,  the  show  of  demon- 
stration is  mere  bluster,  or  is  useful  only  to  trip  up  an  antagonist ' 

1^  i^  2  6y  Leslie  Stephen 


\^ 


PREFACE 


It  IS  NOT  NECESSARY  to  preface  this  Essay  by  any 
precise  account  of  its  scope  and  design.  It  may  be 
sufficiently  described  by  saying  that  it  is  a  piece 
of  destructive  criticism,  formed  by  a  series  of  argu- 
ments of  a  highly  abstract  character.  The  reader 
who  is  not  deterred  by  this  description  from  reading 
the  work  will  find,  I  think,  no  difficulty  in  under- 
standing its  plan. 

It  may  be  convenient  to  mention  that  the  first 
and  sixth  chapters  and  the  Appendix  have  already 
appeared  in  *  Mind' ;  and  that  the  thirteenth  chapter 
was  published  in  the  *  Fortnightly  Review.'  In 
each  case  there  have  been  some  verbal  alterations, 
but  nothing  deserving  the  name  of  an  alteration  in 
substance.  The  sixth  chapter  elicited  a  short  reply 
from  Professor  Caird,  which  will  be  found  in  the 
number  of  'Mind'  for  this  month.  For  reasons 
which  I  there  gave  I  have  not  thought  it  necessary 
to  make  any  important  changes  in  consequence  of 
his  remarks. 


VI 


PREFACE. 


I  must  not  omit  to  acknowledge  the  great  and 
unvarying  kindness  which  my  brother-in-law,  Mr. 
Henry  Sidgwick,  has  shown  in  criticising  the  various 
portions  of  the  Essay  as  they  were  written.  His 
interest  in  the  work,  and  his  suggestions  for  its 
improvement,  have  both  been  invaluable  ;  and  I  have 
the  more  reason  to  be  grateful  for  them,  owing  to 
the  fact  that,  in  many  respects,  his  point  of  view 
differs  widely  from  my  own. 


Whittinghame  : 
January  1879. 


*^*  The  original  title  of  this  book  was  '  A  Defence  of  Philosophic 
Scepticism,'  and  it  was  even  for  a  short  time  advertised  under  this 
name.  It  was,  however,  pointed  out  to  me  that,  considering  the 
nature  of  its  contents,  the  number  of  people  who  would  read  the  book 
would  probably  bear  an  infinitely  small  proportion  to  the  number  of 
people  who  would  read  only  its  title,  and  that  most  of  those  who  read 
the  title  without  reading  the  book  would  assume  that  by  Scepticism 
was  meant  scepticism  in  matters  of  religion.  As  I  could  deny  the 
accuracy  neither  of  the  premises  nor  of  the  conclusion  of  this  piece  of 
reasoning,  I  substituted  the  present  for  the  original  title,  in  the  hope 
that,  though  it  is,  as  I  think,  less  accurate,  it  may  at  all  events  prove 
less  misleading. 


CONTENTS 


PART  I. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  On  the  Idea  of  a  Philosophy   .        .        .        .  i 

II.  Empirical  Logic 15 

III.  Induction 30 

IV.  Historical  Inference      .         ,        .        .        .    .  45 


PART  II. 

V.  Introduction  to  Part  II 73 

VI.  Transcendentalism 85 

VII.  Three  Arguments  from  Popular  Philosophy   .  138 

VIII.  The    Authority    of     Consciousness     and    of 

Original  Beliefs   .        .         .        .        .        .  154' 

IX.  Psychological  Idealism 178 

X.  The  Test  of  Inconceivability    ....  194 
XI.  Mr.  Spencer's  Proof  of  Realism  .        .        .     .  209 


Viii  CONTENTS. 


PART  III. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XII.  Science  as  a  Logical  System  .        .        .         .242 

XIII.  The  Evolution  of  Belief  .  .        .        .     .     260 


SUMMARY      .        .        .         

PRACTICAL  RESULTS 

Note    on    the    Discrepancy  between    Science    and 


277 
296 


Religion  . ^28 


APPENDIX. 
On  the  Idea  of  a  Philosophy  of  Ethics    .        .        .335 


^  OF  THB         ''A 

university' 

A 

DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC   DOUBT. 

PART    I. 
CHAPTER  I. 

ON  THE  IDEA    OF  A  PHILOSOPHY. 

Everything  that  we  know,  or  think  we  know,  may 
be  classed  under  one  of  four  heads,  which,  without 
departing  very  widely  from  ordinary  usage,  may  be 
named  thus  :  Science,  Metaphysics,  Ethics,  and 
Philosophy.  \  By  Science  is  meant  here,  not  only  what 
commonly  goes  by  that  name,  but  also  history,  and 
knowledge  of  particular  matters  of  fact ;  so  that 
*  knowledge  of  phenomena  and  the  relations  subsist- 
ing between  phenomena  '  would  be  a  more  accurate, 
though  less  convenient,  expression  for  what  is 
intended.  In  Metaphysics  is  included,  not  only  Theo- 
logy and  all  doctrines  of  the  Absolute,  but  also  (and 
this  is  not  necessarily  the  same  thing)  all  real  or 
supposed  knowledge  of  entities  which  are  not  phe- 
nomenal. 

B 


2        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

What  is  meant  by  Ethics  I  have  shown  at  length 
in  the  Appendix  which  will  be  found  at  the  end  of 
the  volume.  Here  it  is  only  necessary  to  say  that 
it  includes,  not  only  what  are  commonly  called  moral 
systems,  but  also  some  analogous  systems  not  usually 
so  described. 

Multitudes  of  propositions,  all  professing  to  em- 
body knowledge  belonging  to  one  of  these  depart- 
ments, are  being  continually  put  forward  for  our 
acceptance.     And  as  no  one  believes  all  of  them,  so 

(  those  who  profess  to  act  rationally  must  hold  that 
there  are  grounds  for  rejecting  the  propositions  they 
disbelieve,    and   for  accepting   those   they  believe. 

//  The  systematic  account  of  these  grounds  of  belief 
and  disbelief  makes  up  the  fourth  of  the  classes  into 
which  possible  knowledge  is  divided,  and  is  here 
always  called  Philosophy. 

If  It  be  objected  that  this  is  not  the  common 
meaning  of  the  term,  I  reply  that  it  would  be  difficult 
to  point  out  what  the  common  meaning  is.  It  has 
been  used,  perhaps,  most  frequently  in  England,  as 
being  equivalent  to  Psychology,  which  is  properly  a 
department  of  science.  But  researches  after  the 
absolute  are  also  called  philosophical,  and  these 
belong  to  ontology.  Ethics  is  sometimes  called 
moral  philosophy,  as  science  is  sometimes  called 
natural  philosophy ;  while  Logic,  which  a  very 
common  usage  regards  as  a  branch  of  philosophy, 
would,  as  I  shall  presently  explain,  be  included  in  it 


CHAP.  I.]      ON   THE   IDEA   OF  A  PHILOSOPHY.  3 

also  by  my  definition.  So  that  there  cannot,  on  the 
whole,  be  much  harm  in  using  the  term  to  represent 
a  definite  subject  of  investigation  for  which  there  is 
no  other  word. 

(  It  follows  directly  from  this  definition,  that  how- 
ever restricted  the  range  of  possible  knowledge  may 
be,  philosophy  can  never  be  excluded  from  it.  For 
unless  the  restriction  be  purely  arbitrary,  there  must 
be  reasons  for  it ;  and  it  is  the  systematic  account  of 
these  reasons  which  is  here  called  philosophy.  So 
that  even  if  it  should  turn  out  that  Metaphysics  is 
an  illusion,  and  only  '  positive '  knowledge  is  attain- 
able, this  discovery  would  be  so  far  from  destroying 
philosophy  that  it  is  only  by  philosophy  that  it  could 
be  established.       ) 

If  mankind  was  in  the  condition  of  believing 
nothings  and  without  a  bias  in  any  particular  direc- 
tion, was  merely  on  the  look-out  for  some  legitimate 
creed,  it  would  not,  I  conceive,  be  possible,  a  priori, 
to  name  any  of  the  positive  characteristics  which 
the  philosophy  corresponding  to  that  creed  must  ne- 
cessarily possess.  But  since  this  is  by  no  means 
the  case,  since  everybody  has  a  certain  number  of 
scientific  beliefs,  and  most  people  have  a  certain 
number  of  ethical  and  metaphysical  (theological) 
ones,  it  may  be  possible  to  describe  some  of  the  at- 
tributes which  should  be  found  in  a  philosophy  pro- 
fessing to  support  these  provisional  conclusions. 
For  example. — Since   no  one  supposes  that  all 


B   2 


A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,      [part  i. 


the  propositions  we  believe  are  self-evident,  it  may 
be  assumed  that  the  greater  number  of  them  are 
legitimate  inferences  from  propositions  which  are 
self-evident.  And  from  this  it  follows  that  philo- 
sophy must  consist  of  two  main  departments,  one  of 
which  deals  with  these  ultimate,  or  self-evident  pro- 
positions, the  other  with  modes  of  inference. 

I  do  not  forget  that  some  writers  have  held  that 
the  truth  of  a  system  is  to  be  inferred,  not  from  any 
self-evident  propositions  lying  at  its  root,  but  from 
the  consistency  and  coherence  of  its  parts,  though 
each  of  these  taken  by  itself  is  by  no  means  self- 
evident.  Of  such  a  system  it  would  apparently  be 
incorrect  to  say  that  one  part  is  ultimate  and  another 
derivative ;  it  ought  rather  to  be  said,  that  the  truth 
of  the  whole  is  an  inference  from  the  consistency  of 
the  parts,  while  the  .truth  of  the  parts  is  an  inference 
from  the  truth  of  the  whole.  But  even  on  this 
theory  the  formula  above  stated  holds  good,  for  such 
systems,  so  far  from  being  self-contained  (as  it  were) 
and  sufficient  evidence  for  themselves,  are  really,  as 
a  little  consideration  will  show,  dependent  for  their 
validity  on  some  such  proposition  as  this — '  all  that  is 
coherent  is  true.*  Which  is  itself  again  either  ulti- 
mate or  derivative. 

This  double  function  is  an  important  character- 
istic of  a  complete  philosophy ;  let  me  now  mention 
another  which,  though  it  would  seem  sufficiently 
obvious,  is  continually  ignored.     It  may  be  stated 


CHAP.  I.]     ON  THE   IDEA   OF  A  PHILOSOPHY.  5 

thus  :  '  The  business  of  philosophy  is  to  deal  with 
the  grounds,  not  the  causes  of  belief.' 

There  is  no  distinction  which  has  to  be  kept 
more  steadily  in  view  than  this  between  the  causes 
or  antecedents  which  produce  a  belief,  and  the 
grounds  or  reasons  which  justify  one.  The  enquiry 
into  the  first  is  psychological,  the  enquiry  into  the 
second  is  philosophical,  and  they  belong  therefore 
(according  to  the  classification  just  announced)  to 
entirely  distinct  departments  of  knowledge. 

No  doubt,  in  constructing  a  philosophy,  a  pre- 
vious psychological  enquiry  may  be  required.  It 
may  be  necessary  to  acquaint  ourselves  with  the 
various  modes  by  which  we  arrive  at  conviction, 
before  we  can  select  those  which  are  legitimate.  But 
what  we  must  not  do,  and  what  we  are  very  apt  to 
do,  is  to  suppose  that  by  performing  the  first  opera- 
tion satisfactorily,  we  absolve  ourselves  from  per- 
forming the  second  at  all.  In  the  face  of  modern 
discovery  we  have  continually  to  recollect  that  no 
progress  made  in  tracing  the  history  of  opinions,  no 
development  of  the  theory  of  association  of  ideas,  no 
application  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  to  mind, 
however  much  they  may  prepare  the  ground  for  a 
philosophy,  add,  or  can  add,  one  fragment  to  its 
structure. 

Thus,  it  is  never  a  final  answer  to  philosophy  to 
say  of  a  particular  belief,  it  is  innate,  connate,  em- 
pirical, or,  a  prioriy  the  result  of  inheritance,  or  the 


6        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 


product  of  the  association  of  ideas.  Psychology  is 
satisfied  by  such  replies,  but(^o  make  psychology  the 
rational  foundation  for  philosophy,  is  to  make  a  de- 
partment of  science  support  that  on  which  all  science 
is  by  definition  supposed  to  rest.  It  is  strictly  im- 
possible that  any  solution  of  the  question  *  How 
came  I  to  believe  this  ? '  should  completely  satisfy 
the  demand  *  Why  ought  I  to  believe  it  ? '  though, 
especially  in  the  case  of  derivative  beliefs,  it  may  go 
some  way  towards  it.  In  the  case  of  what  profess 
to  be  ultimate  beliefs,  discussions  as  to  their  origin 
are  either  philosophically  irrelevant,  or  else  prove  to 
demonstration  that  they  are  not  ultimate.  J  This  will 
perhaps  be  clearer  if  we  take  a  concrete  case.  Let 
us  suppose  that  the  result  of  a  particular  psycho- 
logical investigation  is  that  a  certain  judgment,  e.g.y 
*  Everything  has  a  cause,'  is  *  a  priori'  The  psy-. 
chologist  who  makes  this  discovery  is  apt  to  trespass 
on  the  domain  of  philosophy,  and  add,  '  it  is  there- 
fore true.'  Now  if  '  everything  has  a  cause '  is  to  be 
accepted  as  true,  because  it  is  *  ^  priori,^  then  for 
that  very  reason  it  is  not  ultimate ;  two  propositions 
at  least  must  be  accepted  before  it :  ist,  all  '  a  priori' 
judgments  are  true,  and,  2nd,  this  is  an  'a  priori ' 
judgment.  Both  of  which  are  assertions  both  dis- 
putable and  disputed.  So  in  loose  philosophical 
discussion  it  is  very  common  to  advance  some  prin- 
ciple as  being  self-evident,  neither  requiring  nor 
possessing  any  justification,  and  immediately  after- 


CHAP.  I.]     ON  THE  IDEA   OF  A   PHILOSOPHY.  7 

wards  to  adduce  in  its  support  some  such  argument 
as  that  '  it  is  common  to  all  men/  or  that  *  it  has 
been  implanted  in  our  nature  by  a  benevolent  and  all- 
wise  Creator.'  In  such  cases  it  is  clear  either  that 
the  principles  in  question  are  not  self-evide  nt,  or 
that  the  arguments  used  to  support  them  are  super- 
fluous. 

It  is  by  the  consideration  of  such  fallacies  as 
these  that  I  have  been  induced  to  use  the  word 
ultimate,  when  the  expression  '  a  priori '  might  ap- 
pear the  most  natural.  *  A  priori '  means  indepen- 
dent of  experience  ;  but  *  independent  of  experience ' 
is  ambiguous.  It  may  mean  either  that  experience 
has  not  produced  the  judgment  in  question,  or  that 
it  furnishes  no  grounds  for  believing  it.  The  first 
meaning  is  quite  beside  the  purpose  ;  philosophy  has 
no  direct  concern  with  the  origin  of  beliefs,  which, 
as  before  stated,  is  part  of  the  subject-matter  of 
psychology.  The  second  meaning,  on  the  other 
hand,  while  it  excludes  experience  as  a  ground  of 
belief,  and  so  far  expresses  the  desired  idea,  does 
not  express  the  full  '  differentia  '  of  ultimate  beliefs  ; 
viz.  that  we  require  no  grounds  for  believing  them  at 
all.  On  the  contrary,  it  sometimes  seems  to  suggest 
itself  directly  as  a  reason  for  accepting  a  judgment 
(as  if  the  fact  that  experience  did  not  prove  any- 
thing was  a  ground  for  believing  it),  and  sometimes 
mediately,  as  showing  that  the  constitution  of  our 
mind  when    in   a   healthy   condition   impels   us   to 


8        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,      [part  i. 

believe  it,  or  that  it  was  implanted  in  us  by  the 
Author  of  our  being ; — which  reasons,  whether  good 
or  bad,  show,  by  the  very  fact  that  they  are  given 
as  reasons,  that  the  judgment  called  a  priori  is  not 
ultimate. 

While,  then,  it  is  evidently  not  the  business  of 
philosophy  to  account  for  ultimate  axioms  and 
modes  of  inference,  it  is  also  clear  (though  it  may  be 
hardly  necessary  to  make  the  remark)  that  it  is  not 
its  business  to  prove  them.  To  prove  any  conclu- 
sion is  to  show  that  it  legitimately  follows  from  a 
true  premiss  ;  so  that  if  we  were  obliged  to  perform 
this  operation  for  our  axioms  and  modes  of  inference 
before  they  were  to  be  received  as  ultimate,  we 
should  be  driven  either  to  argue  in  a  circle  or  to  an 
infinite  regress.  Indeed,  this  will  sufficiently  appear 
if  we  reflect  that  all  we  mean  by  ultimate  is  '  inde- 
pendent of  proof.' 

But  if  philosophy  is  neither  to  investigate  the 
causes  nor  to  prove  the  grounds  of  belief,  what,  it 
may  be  asked,  is  it  to  do  ?  Its  business,  as  I  appre- 
hend it,  is  to  disengage  the  latter,  to  distinguish  them 
from  what  simulates  to  be  ultimate,  and  to  exhibit 
them  in  systematic  order. 

What  is  meant  here  by  disengaging  the  grounds 
of  belief  in  contradistinction  to  proving  them,  will 
appear  more  clearly  if  we  consider  what  is  done  by 
deductive  logic.  Deductive  logic,  apart  from  the 
practical  rules  with  which  it  is  encumbered,  is  (ac- 


CHAP.  I.]      ON   THE   IDEA   OF   A   PHILOSOPHY.  9 

cording  to  the  terminology  here  employed)  neither 
an  art  nor  a  science,  but  a  systematic  account  of  an 
ultimate  mode  of  inference  by  which  it  may  be  dis- 
tinguished from  all  other  modes,  whether  legitimate 
or  illegitimate,  whether  ultimate  or  derivative  :  it  is 
therefore  by  definition  a  branch  of  philosophy. 

Now  when  deductive  logic  says  that  any  three 
propositions  which  can  be  reduced  to  the  form,  *  All 
A  is  B,  all  C  is  A ;  .  * .  all  C  is  B,'  are  legitimately 
connected  as  premises  and  conclusion,  whatever  may 
be  their  content,  it  is  by  no  means  meant  that  such 
pieces  of  reasoning  derive  their  validity  from  the 
fact  of  their  corresponding  with  the  formula.  It 
simply  means,  to  distinguish  and  mark  off  a  certain 
mode  of  inference  by  giving  a  general  description 
of  it ;  each  particular  example  of  such  inference 
being  in  itself  the  witness  of  its  own  validity. 

This  example  explains  the  procedure  of  Phi- 
losophy with  regard  to  inferences — the  axioms  of 
mathematics  furnish  an  illustration  of  its  procedure 
in  the  matter  of  ultimate  principles.  *  Two  hundred 
and  forty  pence  and  twenty  shillings,  being  each 
equal  to  a  pound,  are  equal  to  one  another,'  is  one 
of  an  indefinite  number  of  similar  self-evident  propo- 
sitions, which  are  described  by  saying  that  *  things 
which  are  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  one 
another  ; '  but  which  do  not  require  to  be  deduced 
from  such  general  description  in  order  to  make  them 
certain.     Such  a  deduction  is,   no  doubt,  possible. 


10      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,      [part  i. 

I  may,  if  I  please,  say,  '  things  which  are  equal,  &c/ 
*  Two  hundred  and  forty  pence  and  twenty  shillings 
are  things  which  are  equal,  &c.,'  'therefore  they  are 
equal  to  each  other.'  But  such  a  syllogism  would 
be  as  frivolous  as  Mr.  Mill  supposes  all  syllogisms 
to  be  ;  and  for  this  reason,  viz.  that  the  conclusion 
is  quite  as  obvious  and  certain  as  the  premiss  which 
is  introduced  to  prove  it. 

It  is  conceivable,  of  course,  that  the  axioms  at 
the  basis  of  knowledge  are  incapable  of  classification  ; 
that  no  two  of  them  have  anything  in  common  except 
the  fact  that  they  are  ultimate.  In  such  an  event 
the  business  of  philosophy  will  be  to  enumerate, 
instead  of  describing  them.  But  this  can  hardly  be 
the  case  with  modes  of  inference.  The  philosophy 
of  deduction  is  already,  comparatively  speaking, 
complete ;  and  though  the  same  cannot  be  said  of 
any  other  mode  of  inference,  it  is  difficult  to  believe 
that  the  bond  connecting  premises  and  conclusion 
differs  in  every  case,  so  as  to  exclude  the  possibility 
of  classification.  Something  very  distantly  approach- 
ing this  state  of  things  would  exist  if  each  depart- 
ment of  knowledge  had  a  mode  of  reasoning  peculiar 
to  itself,  as  some  have  supposed,  e.g;,  theology  to 
have. 

To  classify  inferences  is  to  exhibit  what  is  called 
their  common  form.  And  it  is  plain  that  if  of  two 
inferences,  which  by  classification  have  the  same 
form,  one  is  false  and  the  other  true,  the  classification 


CHAP  I.]      ON   THE   IDEA   OF  A   PHILOSOPHY.  ii 

which  connects  them  is  philosophically  worthless. 
There  would  be  no  use  in  deductive  logic,  for  in- 
stance, if  some  syllogisms  in  *  Barbara '  were  trust- 
worthy and  others  not. 

It  follows  from  this  very  obvious  remark  that 
every  kind  of  logic,  if  it  is  to  be  philosophical,  must 
be  formal.  The  whole  object  of  a  philosophy  of 
inference  being  to  distinguish  valid  and  ultimate 
inferences  from  those  which  are  invalid  or  deriva- 
tive, this  can  only  be  done  either  by  exhibiting  the 
common  form  or  forms  of  such  inferences,  or  (on  the 
violent  hypothesis  that  they  have  no  common  forms) 
by  enumerating  every  concrete  instance.  To  enun- 
ciate a  form  of  inference  which  shall  include  both 
valid  and  invalid  examples,  can  at  best  only  have  a 
psychological  interest;  philosophically,  it  is  only 
misleading.  These  remarks  will  be  found  of  im- 
portance when  we  come  to  consider  theories  of 
inference  other  than  syllogistic  ones. 

The  same  remark  applies,  mutatis  mutandis^  to 
any  classification  of  ultimate  propositions. 

There  is  no  ground  'a  priori'  (i.e.  following 
from  the  idea  of  a  philosophy)  for  supposing  that 
ultimate  judgments  are  all  general  or  all  par- 
ticular. Of  course,  if  they  are  the  latter,  there  must 
be  some  legitimate  mode  of  reasoning  from  par- 
ticulars without  the  help  of  general  propositions. 

I  have  now,  shortly  and  incompletely,  but  I  hope 
at  sufficient  length  for  my  purpose,  sketched  out  the 


12      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

form  to  which  any  reasonable  system  of  belief  must 
be  capable  of  being  reduced.  What  I  desire  to  do 
in  the  remainder  of  this  essay  is  to  examine  how  far 
— not  certainly  every  creed  current  among  man- 
kind, nor  even  those  which  are  accepted  by  educated 
and  civilised  men,  but — the  vast  system  of  modern 
physical  science  conforms  to  this  standard.  This  is 
only  a  fragment  of  the  whole  subject ;  but  even  this, 
if  pursued  in  detail,  would  demand  volumes  for  its 
complete  treatment,  not  to  speak  of  an  author  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  the  methods  and  results  of 
every  one  of  the  sciences.  I  need  not  say  that  nothing 
of  the  kind  is  aimed  at  here.  I  propose  to  deal  only 
with  the  roots,  so  to  speak,  from  which  all  sciences, 
however  far  they  may  spread  their  branches,  ulti- 
mately spring ; — roots  which  are  special  to  no  science, 
but  common  to  all ;  and  even  of  this  subject,  so 
limited  and  doubly  limited,  I  shall  not  attempt  a 
complete  treatment,  though  I  trust  it  may  be  suf- 
ficient for  the  end  in  view. 

Now,  there  are  several  ways  in  which  the  subject 
so  sketched  out  might  be  attacked  ;  all  of  them,  so  far 
as  abstract  reason  is  concerned,  equally  legitimate. 
We  might  begin,  for  example,  by  taking  science  as 
it  stands,  and  tracing  back  each  particular  thread 
of  argument  till  we  arrived  at  the  unproved  and  un- 
provable belief  on  which  it  must  ultimately  depend. 
Such  a  method  would  be  complete,  but  to  carry  it 
out  would   require  a  writer  with  a  great   deal   of 


CHAP.  I.]      ON   THE   IDEA   OF   A   PHILOSOPHY.  13 

knowledge  and  a  reader  with  a  great  deal  of  time. 
Again,  we  might  attempt  to  find,  by  a  process  of 
mere  casual  exploration,  all  the  axioms  which  are 
really  self-evident,  and  all  the  processes  of  inference 
which  are  obviously  sound,  and  then  see  how  far  a 
dogmatic  structure  resting  on  them  could  be  made 
to  harmonise  with  the  received  body  of  the  sciences. 
This  method  of  procedure  is,  however,  too  unsyste- 
matic to  be  likely  to  produce  good  results,  even  if  it 
could  be  made  to  produce  any  results  at  all :  I  there- 
fore incline  to  the  more  convenient,  though  less 
ambitious  plan,  of  starting  with  the  clearest  and  most 
plausible  statement  of  the  most  ordinary  view  of 
scientific  philosophy,  and  seeing  how  far  this  will 
carry  us  towards  the  goal  we  desire  to  reach.  When 
this  fails  us,  it  will  then  be  time  to  examine  what  help 
can  be  derived  from  other  and  less  popular  systems. 
Now,  the  most  ordinary  view  of  scientific  philo- 
sophy I  take  to  be  this :  that  science,  in  so  far  as 
it  consists  of  a  statement  of  the  laws  of  phenomena, 
is  founded  entirely  on  observation  and  experiment ; 
that  observation  and  experiment,  in  fact,  furnish  not 
only  the  occasions  of  scientific  discovery,  but  also  the 
sole  evidence  of  scientific  truth, — evidence,  however, 
which  is  considered  by  most  men  of  science  not  only 
amply  sufficient,  but  also  as  good  as  any  which  can 
be  well  imagined.  Considering,  however,  what  a 
large  number  of  persons  there  are  who  suppose 
themselves  to  derive  all  their  knowledge  from  these 


\ 

14      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

sources,  it  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  we  should 
have  so  little  information  respecting  the  precise 
method  by  which  this  feat  is  to  be  accomplished.  At 
first  sight,  indeed,  the  problem  may  not  seem  a  hard 
one.  We  are  constantly  drawing  inferences  from 
experience  by  methods  which  do  not  appear  to  be 
very  abstruse ;  and  all  that  it  may  seem  necessary 
to  do  is  to  extend  the  operation  of  these  methods  to 
the  utmost  limits  of  knowledge — to  prove,  in  other 
words,  the  most  general  propositions  respecting  the 
course  of  Nature  in  exactly  the  same  manner  as  we 
are  accustomed  to  prove  the  more  limited  truths  by 
which  we  guide  our  daily  life. 

Whether  this  is  possible  or  not  is  the  point 
which  I  propose  to  examine  in  the  next  section. 
And  in  doing  so  I  cannot  pursue  a  more  convenient 
course  than  to  take  as  my  text  Mr.  Mill's  '  Logic,' 
which  professes  to  solve  this  initial  problem  in  an 
affirmative  sense. 


CHAP.  II.]  EMPIRICAL   LOGIC.  15 


CHAPTER  II. 

EMPIRICAL    LOGIC. 

There  are  two  points  of  view  from  -which  any  system 
of  logic  may  be  criticised.  We  may  consider,  first, 
how  far  it  gives  a  satisfactory  account  of  those 
methods  of  inference  with  which  it  professes  to  deal ; 
and,  secondly,  how  far  it  is  complete  in  the  sense  of 
dealing  with  all  methods  of  inference.  The  first  of 
these  conditions,  of  course,  every  logic  which  is  worth 
anything  must  satisfy.  Mr.  Mill  challenges  criticism 
under  the  second  head  also.  He  considers  not  only 
that  he  has  told  us  all  about  some  modes  of  inference, 
but  that  he  has  told  us  all  about  all — all,  that  is,  of 
course,  which  are  legitimate;  so  that  if  we  only 
master  his  book,  we  shall  be  acquainted  with  every 
method  by  which  mediate  truths  are  or  can  be  derived 
from  those  which  are  immediate. 

This  completeness  of  range  is  not  attained,  how- 
ever, by  adding  on  new  methods  to  those  which  have 
already  been  reduced  to  system,  but  rather  by  bring- 
ing forward  one  single  method,  and  announcing  that 
all  others  are  either  modifications  of  this  or  are  not 
concerned  with  inference  at  all.    It  is  in  this  last  way 


i6      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,      [part  i. 

that  Mr.  Mill  disposes  of  the  syllogism.  I  have  too 
great  a  regard  for  him,  and  attach  too  great  weight 
to  the  formidable  list  of  authorities  whom  he  quotes 
as  witnesses  to  its  truth  and  importance,  to  treat  his 
celebrated  speculation  on  this  subject  in  anything  but 
a  serious  spirit.  At  the  same  time,  I  must  confess 
that  it  appears  to  me  to  originate  in  a  misuse  of  lan- 
guage, and  to  end  in  an  important  philosophic  error. 

This  doctrine,  discovered  by  Mr.  Mill  and  ap- 
plauded by  Sir  John  Herschel  and  Professor  Bain,  is, 
on  its  negative  side,  this  :  There  can  be  no  inference 
from  the  premises  of  a  syllogism,  because  in  the 
major  premiss  there  is  already  asserted  what  is 
afterwards  asserted  in  the  conclusion. 

Now,  when  a  logician  puts  any  mode  of  inference 
on  its  trial,  he  has  to  decide  two  questions  concern- 
ing it,  and,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  only  two.  First,  does 
it  involve  a  progress  from  what  is  known  to  what  is 
not  known  ?  (the  answer  to  this  question  decides 
whether  it  is  or  is  not  a  mode  of  inference).  Secondly, 
if  there  is  a  progress  from  the  known  to  the  unknown, 
is  that  progress  justified  ?  (the  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion decides  whether  the  mode  of  inference  is  legiti- 
mate). The  first  question  is,  so  to  speak,  a  question  of 
Fact ;  the  second  question  is  one  of  Law.  Now,  taking 
in  the  case  of  the  Syllogism  the  second  question  first, 
no  one  has  everthought  of  denying  that  if,  in  that  form, 
there  is  any  inference  at  all,  it  is  legitimate.  The 
conclusion  may  not  be  inferred  from  the  premises ; 


CHAP.  II.]  EMPIRICAL   LOGIC.  17 

but,  at  any  rate,  if  these  are  true,  it  is  true.  So  that 
the  only  question  that  remains  to  be  decided  is  the 
question  of  fact.  Do  we,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  when 
we  employ  a  syllogism,  ever  proceed  from  what  we 
do  know  or  think  we  know  to  what  we  do  not  know  ? 
This  question  can  certainly  only  be  answered  in  the 
affirmative  ;  and,  indeed,  it  is  so  answered  by  Mill 
himself, — at  least  by  implication.^ 

But,  says  Mr.  Mill,^  are  we  warranted  in  'as- 
serting a  general  proposition  without  having  satis- 
fied ourselves  of  the  truth  of  everything  which  it 
fairly  includes  ? '  Supposing  we  give  the  expected 
answer,  and  agree  that  we  are  not  warranted, 
then  Mr.  Mill  would  go  on  to  say — this  is  equivalent 
to  allowing  that  we  ought  not  to  assert  any  major 
premiss  unless  we  are  already  acquainted  with  the 
conclusion,  because  the  conclusion  is  undoubtedly 
something  '  fairly  included '  in  the  major  premiss ; 
and  it  is  absurd  to  say  that  a  truth  which  we  must 
know  before  we  can  assert  another  truth  can  be  con- 
cluded from  it.  To  this  I  reply,  that  even  if  it  be 
true  that  we  have  no  right  to  assert  the  major  pre- 
miss unless  we  previously  believe  the  conclusion, 
that  is  not  a  matter  with  which  logic  has  any  concern. 
So  long  as,  in  point  of  fact,  we  do  assert  the  major 
premiss  without  first  believing  the  conclusion,  so  long 
will  the  latter  be  an  inference  from  the  former,  and 
so  long  will  the  syllogism  be  the  formal  statement  of 

^  Logic,  vol.  i.  p.  206.  "^  Ibid.  vol.  i.  p.  207. 


i8       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

that  inference.  Granted  that  a  major  premiss  arrived 
at  by  any  process  which  does  not  independently 
prove  the  conclusion  is  illegitimate,  still,  if  it  is  ar- 
rived at,  it  is  in  no  way  prevented  by  the  illegitimacy 
of  its  origin  from  being  the  basis  of  a  real  inference, 
and  of  one  which,  in  relation  to  its  premises,  is 
correct. 

So  far,  then,  it  appears  to  me  that  on  his  own 
data  Mr.  Mill  uses  misleading  language  about  the 
functions  of  the  syllogism  ;  but  if  this  was  all,  I  should 
not  so  long  have  troubled  the  reader  about  the  matter. 
If  the  controversy  turned  simply  on  whether  we 
should  use  the  word  '  infer '  or  the  word  *  interpret/ 
whether  we  should  talk  of  'drawing  a  conclusion 
from '  or  of  *  drawing  a  conclusion  according  to,'  a 
formula,  the  matter  might  be  left  to  professed  logi- 
cians, with  only  this  recommendation — that  if  they 
decide  in  each  case  on  the  second  alternative,  it 
would  be  well  to  revise  the  common  definition  of  the 
word  *  infer.' 

The  really  important  thing  which  gives  a  certain 
amount  of  plausibility  to  Mr.  Mill's  theory  of  the 
syllogism  is  the  doctrine  that  all  inference  is  from 
particulars  ;  and  this  is  mixed  up  in  such  a  manner 
with  the  general  argument  which  I  have  been 
discussing  above,  that  careless  readers  carry  away, 
I  am  convinced,  a  sort  of  general  idea  that  it 
follows  from  taking  the  correct — by  which  they 
mean    Mr.    Mill's  —  view  of  the  functions   of  the 


CHAP.  II.]  EMPIRICAL   LOGIC.  19 

syllogism.  The  truth  is  that  Mr.  Mill's  criticism 
of  the  ordinary  theory  of  the  syllogism,  where  it 
is  not  merely  verbal,  so  far  from  proving  this  doc- 
trine, depends  on  it  for  its  whole  effect.  Supposing 
we  know  any  general  proposition  with  the  same  im- 
mediate certainty  that  we  know  any  of  the  particular 
propositions  which  serve  as  a  foundation  for  Induc- 
tion, then,  if  it  is  formally  possible  to  make  any 
deductions  from  it  at  all  (which  will  not,  I  suppose,  be 
denied),  one  of  these  things  must  be  true — either  by 
the  mere  act  of  knowing  the  general  proposition  we 
know  'everything  which  it  fairly  includes,'  so  that' 
the  deduction,  though  possible,  is  superfluous  ;*  or 
else  we  can  proceed  by  the  syllogistic  process  from 
something  we  know  to  something  we  do  not  know, 
and  which,  it  may  be,  can  be  arrived  at  by  no  other 
method.  Now,  the  first  of  these  alternatives  certainly 
cannot  be  proved,  and  I  think  I  may  affirm  without 
exaggeration  that  it  is  extravagantly  absurd  ;  we  are, 
therefore,  reduced  to  the  second  alternative,  which  in 
effect  amounts  to  this  :  that,  on  a  certain  supposition 
respecting  the  nature  of  our  ultimate  premises,  the 
syllogism  would  not  only  be  a  mode  of  inference,  but 
would  be  a  formal  statement  of  the  only  mode  of 
inference  which  it  would  be  in  our  power  to  use. 

The  substantial  part,  in  short,  of  Mills  attack 
on  the  syllogism  amounts  to  this, — that  in  every 
case  where  we  deduce  a  conclusion  from  a  general 
proposition,  the  ultimate  grounds  for  our  believing 

c  2 


20       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

that  conclusion  is  a  process  of  inference  by  which 
both  the  general  proposition  and  the  conclusion  can 
be  co-ordinately  proved ;  and  this  again  is  founded 
on  the  doctrine  that  all  inference  is  from  particulars. 
Before  following  out  this  important  philosophic 
doctrine,  as  held  by  Mr.  Mill,  to  some  of  its  results, 
I  have  three  general  remarks  to  make  on  it.  Firstly, 
whether  it  be  true  or  untrue,  it  does  not  lie  within 
the  province  of  Logic  either  to  prove  it  or  to  assume 
it.  As  Mr.  Mill  himself  very  properly  remarks  : — 
'  With  the  original  data  or  ultimate  premises  of  our 
knowledge ;  with  their  number  or  nature  .  .  .  logic, 
in  a  direct  way  at  least,  has,  in  the  sense  in  which  I 
conceive  the  science,  nothing  to  do.  These  questions 
are  partly  not  a  subject  of  science  at  all,  and  partly 
that  of  a  very  different  science.'^  In  the  second  place, 
whether  the  doctrine  be  true  or  untrue,  it  is  impossible 
in  any  general  way  to  prove  it.  It  is  possible  no  doubt 
for  a  man  to  go  over  all  his  beliefs  in  turn,  and  find  to 
his  own  satisfaction  that  whenever  they  are  not  imme- 
diate, they  are  ultimately  inferred  from  particulars  ; 
but  he  can  hardly  show  that  this  is  a  necessary  cha- 
racteristic of  all  conclusions.  Something  would  be 
done  in  this  direction  if  it  could  be  proved  that  there 
was  no  satisfactory  method  known  by  which  infer- 
ences could  be  drawn  from  general  propositions : 
unfortunately,  it  seems  at  present  easier  to  show  this 
of  particular  ones. 

^  Logic,  vol.  i.  p.  6. 


CHAP.  II.]  EMPIRICAL   LOGIC.  21 

My  third  remark  is,  that  if  the  views  on  ethics 
expressed  in  the  Appendix  are  correct,  the  whole  of 
our  morality  must  be  deduced  from  general  pro- 
positions which  are  not,  and  which  cannot  be,  them- 
selves inferences  from  particulars.  To  ethical  in- 
ferences, therefore,  Mr.  Mill's  theory  is  altogether 
inapplicable. 

Let  us,  however,  assume  with  Mr.  Mill  that  all 
our  knowledge  springs  ultimately  from  particular 
experiences,  and  that  there  is  therefore  but  one 
fundamental  type  of  inference — namely,  inference 
from  particulars  by  '  simple  enumeration' — what 
rules  has  he  to  give  us  by  which  we  may  judge  how 
far  in  any  given  case  the  operation  of  inferring  is 
legitimately  performed  ?  We  should  expect  before- 
hand thatWn  a  work  on  logic,  consisting  of  two  large 
volumes,  and  founded  on  this  particular  view  of 
inference,  the  systematic  account  of  such  rules  would 
form  a  considerable  part.  This  is  not  so.  What 
Mr.  Mill  has  to  say  on  the  subject  is  scattered  up 
and  down  his  book,  chiefly  in  connection  with  certain 
concrete  examples,  and  must  be  collected  for  pur- 
poses of  criticism  from  these  ;  so  that  we  have  the 
singular  phenomenon  of  a  work  professing  to  treat 
mainly  of  inference,  in  which  the  universal  type  of 
inference  is  treated  of  only  incidentally  ! 

How  this  comes  about  most  of  my  readers  are 
probably  already  aware  :  it  is  well  known  that  the 
mode  by  which,  according  to  Mr.  Mill,  we  arrive  at 


22       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

a  law  of  nature  is  by  discovering,  through  one  of  the 

*  Four  Methods,'  that  A  is  causally  connected  in  a 
particular  instance  with  B,  and  then,  by  virtue  of  the 
law  of  universal  causation,  extending  this  discovery 
to  other  times  and  other  places  : — the  general  pro- 
position expressing  the  law  of  causation  being  thus 
the  major  premiss  of  the  syllogism  by  which  the 
discovery  is  established. 

Omitting  the  case  of  mathematical  truths,  we 
have,   therefore,    hardly   any   cause   to    employ  the 

*  universal  type '  of  reasoning,  except  for  the  pur- 
pose of  proving  the  law  of  universal  causation.  But 
since  this  is  not  only  the  most  important  but  also 
the  most  perfect  example  of  its  application,  we 
cannot  do  better  than  follow  Mr.  Mill's  (from  some 
points  of  view  rather  singular)  course,  and  examine 
it  chiefly  in  this  connection. 

The  first  important  thing  to  note  is  that  the 
legitimacy  of  this  sort  of  reasoning  does  not  depend 
on  its  form.  Without  going  the  length  of  Mr.  Mill, 
and  asserting  that  inference  from  particulars  never 
can  be  formally  cogent,  we  may  safely  say  that  as  yet 
neither  Mr.  Mill  nor  any  one  else  has  shown  how  it 
is  to  be  made  so. 

Now,  to  say  that  the  legitimacy  of  any  piece  of 
reasoning  does  not  depend  on  its  form  is  the  same 
as  saying  that,  if  you  want  to  know  if  it  is  correct, 
you  must  determine  the  fact  by  means  of  extraneous 
considerations.       If   (to   put  the  matter  in  a  more 


GHAP.  II.]  EMPIRICAL   LOGIC.  23 

concrete  way)  a  particular  mode  of  reasoning  gives 
me  A  as  an  inference  from  B,  and  a  precisely  similar 
mode  gives  me  C  as  an  inference  from  D  (both  B 
and  D  being  supposed  to  be  true),  then,  if  I  find  that 
A  is  not  true,  or,  at  any  rate,  is  not  proved,  I  must 
have  some  other  reason  for  believing  C  to  be  true 
than  that  it  is  inferred  from  D  in  exactly  the  same 
manner  as  A  was  from  B.  So  much  is  plain.  Now 
let  us  apply  these  general  remarks  to  the  particular 
case  of  the  Law  of  Universal  Causation. 

The  Law  of  Universal  Causation  is  an  inference 
from  particulars  '  by  simple  enumeration.'  It  has 
been  found  a  certain  number  of  times  to  be  true  ; 
it  has  never  (I  allow  this  for  the  sake  of  argument), 
it  has  never,  I  say,  been  known  to  be  false.  This  is 
the  statement,  and  as  far  as  I  can  judge  the  complete 
statement,  of  the  inductive  argument  on  which  it 
rests.^  But  if  we  trust  as  a  rule  to  this  same  induc- 
tive argument,  *we  shall,'  says  Mill,  *  in  general  err 
grossly.'  It  is  clear  therefore  that  we  must  distin- 
guish the  correct  argument  by  which  the  Law  of 
Causation  is  proved  from  the  incorrect  arguments 
which  it  exactly  resembles  ;  and  this  it  is  equally 
clear  can  only  be  done  by  means  of  considerations  to 
be  found  outside  of  the  argument  itself.  What  are 
these  considerations  ?  They  can  be  seen  on  page 
102  of  the  second  volume  of  the  *  Logic,'  and  may 
be  paraphrased  somewhat  in  the  following  way  : — 

^  Vol.  ii.  p.  102. 


24       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

Certain  sequences  may  be  observed  to  be  con- 
stant and  invariable  within  limits  which,  compared 
with  the  total  range  of  time  and  space  open  to 
human  observation,  are  restricted.  It  is  hazardous 
to  assume  that  these  sequences  will  obtain  much 
beyond  the  sphere  in  which  they  have  been  observed 
to  be  true,  because  they  may  be  the  result  not  of 
direct  causation  but  of  an  arrangement,  or  '  collo- 
cation '  of  causes ;  and  this  arrangement,  and  con- 
sequently its  effects,  may  only  exist  within  the  limits 
where  it  has  been  observed.  If,  however,  we  sup- 
pose the  sphere  in  which  we  have  observed  such  a 
sequence  to  be  gradually  extended,  then,  in  pro- 
portion as  it  approaches  to  the  total  range  open 
to  human  observation,  in  that  proportion  will  the 
observed  sequence  approach  the  certainty  and  uni- 
versality of  a  law  of  nature,  until  ultimately  the  two 
become  indistinguishable.  This  is  the  case  with  the 
Law  of  Causation. 

Now  the  objection  that  has  to  be  made  to  this 
method  of  proof  is  that  it  assumes  the  whole  ques- 
tion at  issue.  The  distinction  between  sequences 
which  are  the  result  of  direct  causation  and  sequences 
which  depend  on  the  collocation  of  causes,  has  no 
meaning  unless  we  assume  a  universe  governed  by 
causation ;  and  the  existence  of  such  a  universe  is 
the  very  thing  we  want  to  demonstrate.  Grant  all 
that  Mr.  Mill  or  Mr.  Bain  could  desire — and  a  great 
deal  more  than  could  be  proved — grant  that  at  every 


CHAP.  II.]  EMPIRICAL   LOGIC.  25 

time  and  in  every  place  throughout  that  very  Hmited 
portion  of  time  and  space  open  to  human  observation 
every  event  has  had  a  cause,  and  every  cause  has 
been  always  followed  by  the  same  event,  we  should 
still  be  no  nearer  proving  that  an  inference  founded 
on  these  particulars  was  more  likely  to  be  accurate 
than  an  inference  founded  on  any  other  particu- 
lars, so  long  as  the  only  distinction  between  the  two 
assumed  a  universe  of  the  very  kind  we  wished  to 
prove.  And  this  is  precisely  what  Mr.  Mill's  dis- 
tinction does  assume.  It  is  dangerous  in  an  ordinary 
way  (he  says)  to  infer  from  particulars  ;  but  we  may 
do  so  safely  if  our  induction  is  sufficiently  wide.  And 
why  ?  Because  we  shall  then  be  sure  that  what  we 
have  observed  is  not  due  to  chance  or  the  accidental 
collocation  of  causes,  but  to  the  direct  operation  of 
causation.  This  is  doubtless  a  most  excellent  canon 
of  criticism,  and  one  which  may  enable  us  to  judge 
of  the  worth  of  many  inferences  '  by  simple  enumer- 
ation.' There  is,  however,  one  such  inference  which 
it  can  never  enable  us  to  judge  of,  and  that  is  the 
Law  of  Causation  itself. 

This  expedient  for  placing  the  empirical  argu- 
ment in  favour  of  the  uniformity  of  nature  on  a  sure 
basis  may  seem  rather  clumsy,  but  the  truth  is,  that, 
though  not  good,  it  is  as  good  as  any  other  which  it 
was  possible  for  Mr.  Mill,  with  his  views  about  the 
sources  of  knowledge,  to  suggest. 

For  in  a  general  way  we  may  lay  it  down  that 


26       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

since  by  informal  inference  we  mean  inference  of 
which  the  truth  cannot  be  discovered  from  the  form, 
any  attempt  to  prove  a  conclusion  by  means  of  such 
inference,  can  only  be  made  even  apparently  effec- 
tive in  one  of  three  ways  :  Firstly,  we  may  distin- 
guish the  legitimate  from  the  illegitimate  application 
of  the  method  by  means  of  some  principle  which  is 
itself  arrived  at  by  that  method.  This  is  Mr.  Mill's 
device,  and  involves  a  more  or  less  obvious  argu- 
ment in  a  circle.  Or,  secondly,  our  principle  of  dis- 
tinction may  be  given  either  a  priori,  or  by  some 
other  mode  of  inference.  This  plan,  though  common 
enough,  is  of  course  inconsistent  with  empirical 
philosophy,  at  any  rate  as  conceived  by  Mr.  Mill. 
Or,  thirdly,  we  may  adopt  no  extraneous  principle  of 
distinction  at  all,  but  simply  affirm  that  of  two  similar 
cases  of  inferences  we  perceive  one  to  be  cogent 
and  the  other  not.  '  ,    :  :•    • 

I  am  not  aware  that  any  philosopher  has  for- 
mally adopted  this  last  expedient.  In  reality,  how- 
ever, it  is  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from  those 
theories  according  to  which  particular  experiences 
are  the  occasions  of  our  forming  *  intuitive '  judg- 
ments. It  is  true  that  in  the  one  case  the  particular 
experiences  are  called  '  reasons,'  and  in  the  other 
*  occasions,'  and  that  a  system  founded  on  the  first 
would  be  called  'empirical,'  and  one  founded  on  the 
second  '  intuitional/  But  except  in  the  names  there 
is  no  important  difference  between  the  two.     For 


CHAP.  II.]  EMPIRICAL   LOGIC.  27 

why  are  we  to  accept  the  conclusion  supposed  to  be 
proved  by  the  *  reasons '  ?  Because  of  the  cogency 
of  the  reasoning  ?  Not  at  all.  Precisely  similar 
reasoning  from  equally  true  premises  frequently 
leads  to  *  gross  error.'  We  accept  this  example  of 
reasoning,  if  we  do  accept  it,  in  exactly  the  same 
way  as,  by  the  theories  I  allude  to,  certain  judgments 
are  accepted  ;  in  the  one  case  it  is  the  reasoning 
which  is  known  to  be  valid  by  a  special  intuition, 
and  in  the  other  it  is  the  judgment. 

It  would  not,  therefore,  have  been  open  to  Mr. 
Mill  to  take  this  view  of  the  proof  by  which  the 
Law  of  Causation  is  established.  It  is  in  reality, 
though  not  in  form,  an  '  intuitional '  proof ;  and  so 
anxious  is  he  to  be  free  from  any  taint  of  '  intuitivism,' 
that  of  the  chapter  nominally  devoted  to  proving  the 
law,  he  has  thought  it  expedient  to  devote  a  quarter 
to  disproving  the  *  intuitive '  proofs  of  other  people  ; 
and  if  the  reader  will  refer  to  the  early  part  of  that 
chapter  he  will  see  that  Mr.  Mill's  dialectic  would  be 
quite  as  effective  against  the  particular  intuitional 
doctrine,  which,  as  I  have  explained  above,  lies  con- 
cealed under  an  empirical  disguise,  as  it  is  against 
those  more  usual  and  orthodox  theories  with  which 
we  are  familiar. 

In  the  foregoing  attack  on  Mr.  Mill's  view  of 
inference,  in  so  far,  at  least,  as  it  is  applied  to  the 
proof  of  the  law  of  universal  causation,  I  have  said 
nothing  which,  as  I  imagine,  has  not,  in  one  shape 


28       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

or  another,  suggested  itself  to  many  students  of  his 
logic.  But  I  am  anxious  to  explain  that  the  fact  of 
singling  him  out  for  criticism  implies  a  recognition  of 
his  merits  even  more  than  of  his  defects.  If  his 
empirical  view  of  the  universe  is  peculiarly  easy  to 
attack,  it  is  not  because  his  method  of  proof  is  less 
satisfactory  than  that  of  other  empirical  philosophers, 
but  because  he  saw  more  clearly,  or  at  any  rate 
allowed  his  readers  to  see  more  clearly,  what  it  was 
that  had  to  be  proved,  and  the  only  method  by  which, 
on  purely  empirical  data,  even  the  semblance  of 
proof  was  possible.  If  he  failed  (and  I  think  he 
failed  completely),  it  was  because  he  attempted  what, 
in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge,  cannot,  I 
believe,  be  accomplished. 

It  is  impossible  to  deny  that  science  is  only 
possible  if  we  assume  the  law  of  universal  causation  ; 
that,  if  observation  and  experiment  be  the  sole  foun- 
dation of  knowledge,  the  law  of  universal  causation 
must  be  proved  from  particulars  ;  that  Mr.  Mill  has 
stated  (or,  if  you  please,  has  avoided  stating)  the 
method  of  proof  from  particulars  as  ingeniously  as 
can  well  be  imagined  ;  and  that  his  statement  (or 
want  of  statement)  cannot  in  reality  stand  for  a 
moment  against  hostile  criticism.  The  most  impor- 
tant of  these  points  I  have  proved,  as  I  think,  in  the 
course  of  the  preceding  remarks,  the  rest  of  them  I 
hope  the  reader  will  admit  without  proof ;  and  I  now, 
therefore,  go  on  to  show,  in  a  few  words,  that  even 


CHAP.  II.]  EMPIRICAL   LOGIC.  29 

if  legitimate  inference  from  particulars  were  possible, 
and  the  law  of  causation  were  proved,  it  is  by  no 
means  the  adequate  foundation  for  the  superstructure 
of  science  which  Mr.  Mill,  and  those  who  accept  Mr. 
Mill's  general  line  of  thought,  appear  to  imagine. 


30       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 


CHAPTER    III. 

INDUCTION. 

Admitting  then  that  the  course  of  nature  is  regular, 
and  that  every  event  has  an  antecedent  upon  which 
it  invariably  follows,  and  a  consequent  which  in- 
variably follows  it,  the  question  still  remains,  how 
are  the  real  members  of  these  sequences  to  be  dis- 
covered ?  How  can  we  single  out  the  causes  which 
produce  any  given  effect  and  the  effects  which  are 
produced  by  any  given  cause  ?  Mr.  Mill  would  say 
(and  it  will  again,  I  think,  prove  a  convenient  course 
to  begin  the  discussion  by  examining  his  opinion) 
that  the  discovery  must  be  made  by  the  employment 
of  one  of  his  well-known  '  Four  Methods.'  To  see 
how  far  the  assertion  is  correct,  it  will  only  be  neces- 
sary to  quote  two  of  them — the  first  and  the  second. 
They  run  as  follows  :  *  If  any  instance  in  which  the 
phenomenon  under  investigation  occurs,  and  an 
instance  in  which  it  does  not  occur,  have  every  cir- 
cumstance in  common  save  one,  that  one  occurring 
only  in  the  former ;  the  circumstance  in  which  alone 
the  two  instances  differ  is  the  effect,  or  the  cause,  or 
an    indispensable  part  of  the  cause  of  the  pheno- 


CHAP.  III.]  INDUCTION.  31 

menon/  And  '  If  two  or  more  instances  of  the 
phenomenon  under  investigation  have  only  one  cir- 
cumstance in  common,  the  circumstance  in  which 
alone  all  the  instances  agree  is  the  cause  (or  effect) 
of  the  given  phenomenon.' 

For  the  first  of  these  methods — the  method  of 
difference — Mr.  Mill  claims  that  a  single  instance  of 
its  application  is  sufficient  to  prove  a  general  law  of 
nature  ;  and  in  a  certain  sense  no  doubt  the  claim 
may  be  allowed.  It  would  certainly  prove  a  general 
law  of  nature — if  it  could  be  applied  ;  but  then  it 
unfortunately  never  can  be  applied^  The  state  of 
the  universe  is  never  the  same  at  two  successive 
instants  in  every  particular  but  one.  Simultaneously 
with  the  change  falling  under  the  special  notice  of 
the  observer,  or  (if  it  be  a  case  of  experiment)  in- 
troduced into  the  phenomena  by  the  experimenter, 
there  occur  countless  changes  which  he  neither  knows 
of  nor  produces,  and  which,  for  anything  that  the 
canon  tells  us  to  the  contrary,  may  each  or  all  of 
them  be  the  cause  of  the  subsequent  effect.  A 
parallel  objection  may  be  brought  against  the  second 
method — that  of  agreement.  As  Mr.  Mill  himself 
explains  at  length,  this  method  can  never  by  a  single 
application  prove  a  case  of  causation,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  same  effect  is  often  produced  by  more 
than  one  cause ;  so  that,  even  if  two  *  instances  of  a 
phenomenon'  have  only  one  circumstance  in  com- 
mon, there  is  a  probability,  but  only  a  probability. 


32       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 


that  that  circumstance  is  the  cause  (or  effect)  of  that 
phenomenon.  But  has  it  ever  occurred  that  two 
instances  of  a  phenomenon  have  only  one  circum- 
stance in  common  ?  We  may  safely  reply,  never. 
As  in  the  case  of  the  method  of  difference,  the 
reasoning  is  vitiated  by  the  fact  that  the  universe 
never  differs  in  two  successive  moments  in  only  one 
particular,  so  the  method  of  agreement  fails,  not 
only  for  the  reason  given  by  Mr.  Mill,  but  because 
the  universe,  at  two  successive  moments,  never 
agrees  in  only  one  particular.  And  neither  the  one 
canon  nor  the  other  shows  us  any  grounds  for  select- 
ing from  among  the  countless  points  of  difference  or 
agreement  that  one  which  is  the  cause  or  the  effect 
of  which  we  are  in  search. 

I  have  stated  this  objection  as  against  Mill,  but 
it  must  not  be  supposed  that  it  has  only  weight 
against  Mr.  Mill's  statement  of  the  law  of  induction. 
It  is  equally  applicable  to  the  ordinary  version  of 
the  means  whereby  we  obtain  knowledge  by  experi- 
ment and  observation,  of  which  view,  indeed,  Mr. 
Mill  merely  attempts  a  systematic  exposition.  If  we 
see  a  man  swallow  the  contents  of  a  phial,  and  imme- 
diately fall  down  dead,  we  conclude  that  his  death  is 
the  consequence  of  what  he  has  drunk  ;  and  we  do 
so  undoubtedly  on  the  grounds  stated  in  the  canon 
of  the  Method  of  Difference.  All  other  circum- 
stances seemed  to  remain  the  same  except  these 
two—his   drinking   the   liquid   and    his   death ;  we 


CHAR  III.]  INDUCTION.  33 

therefore  pair  them  off  as  cause  and  effect.  The 
smallest  reflection,  however,  shows  that  there  must 
have  been  an  indefinite  number  of  events  which, 
like  the  drinking  of  the  liquid,  immediately  preceded 
the  death  of  the  man  ;  what  is  not  so  plain  is  *the 
principle  which  may  justify  us  in  assuming,  that 
though  they  are  antecedents  of  the  effect,  they  are 
no  part  of  its  cause. 

Now  there  are  two  ways  in  which  this  difficulty 
or  ambiguity  in  the  ordinary  version  of  inductive 
reasoning  may  be  met.  It  may,  in  the  first  place, 
be  asserted,  that  by  previous  observation  or  experi- 
ment we  may,  and  commonly  do,  arrive  at  some 
conclusions  which  enable  us  with  more  or  less  con- 
fidence to  select  from  among  the  phenomena  which 
precede  an  event  the  one  which  produced  it.  For 
example,  we  know  that  there  are  many  drugs  which 
taken  even  in  small  doses  produce  instant  death ;  and 
this  is  a  consideration  which  materially  influences  us 
in  affirming,  in  the  case  I  have  just  used  for  illustra- 
tion, that  the  drinking  of  the  contents  of  the  phial, 
and  the  sudden  death  of  the  man,  were  not  mere 
coincidences,  but  were  events  connected  by  causa- 
tion. But  though  it  may  be  admitted  that  in  fact 
we  do  thus  habitually  use  our  knowledge  of  the 
general  laws  of  nature  to  guide  us  in  the  interpre- 
tation of  particular  observations  or  experiments,  this 
is  no  justification  of  inductive  methods  in  the  abstract, 
3ince  these  general  laws  of  nature  must,  on  any  ern- 

P 


34       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

pirical  theory,  in  the  first  instance  themselves  have 
been  arrived  at  by  induction.  It  is  therefore  plain 
that,  unless  we  are  doomed  to  wander  in  an  endless 
logical  circuit,  some  inductions  must  be  valid  which 
derive,  or  at  all  events  require,  no  support  from  any 
extraneous  authority. 

We  turn  then  to  the  second  possible  solution  of 
the  difficulty,  which  might  be  stated  perhaps  some- 
what in  this  way  : — '  Mr.  Mill  (it  might  be  said)  is 
in  error  when  he  supposes  that  one  properly  con- 
ducted experiment  can  prove  a  law  of  nature,  even 
if  the  method  employed  be  the  "  Method  of  Differ- 
ence." In  all  cases  of  induction  we  can  do  no  more 
than  prove  a  certain  law  to  be  probable.  If  our  ob- 
servations or  experiments  be  numerous  and  success- 
ful, the  probability  proved  may  be  a  very  high  one  ; 
if  they  are  few  and  ambiguous,  it  may  be  a  very 
slight  one ;  but  in  either  case  what  we  prove  is 
probability  and  probability  alone.  This,  however, 
need  cause  us  no  uneasiness.  If  demonstrative 
certainty  is  denied  us,  we  may  still  by  this  method 
obtain  that  practical  certainty  which  is  all  we  require 
to  guide  us  in  the  affairs  of  life.' 

This,  I  imagine,  is  the  opinion  of  Professor 
Jevons,  elaborated  at  some  length  in  '  The  Prin- 
ciples of  Science.'  That  work  has  no  pretension 
to  be  a  complete  philosophy  of  science,  since,  if  I 
understand  it  rightly,  the  uniformity  of  nature  is 
assumed  in  it  without  proof,  as  a  necessary  condi- 


CHAP.  HI.]  INDUCTION.  35 

tion  of  inductive  enquiry  ;  but,  this  assumption  once 
granted,  the  further  steps  by  which  we  arrive  at  a 
knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nature  from  the  facts  of 
nature  are  given  in  detail,  so  that  it  is  directly  con- 
cerned with  the  subject-matter  of  this  chapter. 

Now  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  Professor 
Jevons  is  correct  in  saying  that  by  induction  we  can 
arrive  at  nothing  better  than  probability ;  and  that 
in  consequence  a  study  of  the  theory  of  probability 
is  a  necessary  and  most  important  part  of  the  phi- 
losophy of  science.  But  his  enthusiasm  for  this 
branch  of  the  subject  carries  him  perhaps  rather 
further  than  sober  reason  warrants.  Because,  apart 
from  the  logic  of  chance  we  can  do  little,  he  seems 
to  suppose  that,  aided  by  the  logic  of  chance,  we 
can  do  everything.  The  universe  appears  to  him 
like  a  gigantic  ballot-box,  from  which  the  scientific 
observer  occupies  himself  in  drawing  and  replacing 
black  and  white  balls  ;  and  because  the  resources 
of  the  calculus  would  enable  the  drawer  to  deter- 
mine, after  any  number  of  draws,  the  chances  of 
the  next  ball  being  black  or  white,  even  when  the 
number  of  the  balls  in  the  box  is  infinite,  he  ap- 
pears to  suppose  that  a  similar  procedure  will  enable 
the  experimenter  to  foretell  the  probability  of  a  future 
event  from  a  study  of  the  sequences  and  co-existences 
of  phenomena  in  the  past. 

It  may  be  doubted,  however,  how  far  the  universe 
can  be  fairly  assumed  to  resemble  a  ballot-box,  even 

P   3 


36       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

though  the  size  of  the  hypothetical  ballot-box  be 
infinite.  And  it  is  still  more  open  to  question 
whether  a  legitimate  application  of  the  theory  of 
probability  will  permit  us  to  hold  scientific  beliefs 
with  anything  like  the  certainty  which  men  of  science 
attach  to  them,  even  granting  all  the  premises  which 
they  are  in  the  habit  of  claiming. 

Let  us,  in  order  to  make  this  perfectly  clear,  ex- 
amine a  hypothetical  case  of  induction,  which  we 
may  make  as  favourable  as  we  choose.  Let  us 
imagine  that  two  phenomena,  A  and  B,  are  of  very 
frequent  occurrence ;  that  whenever  A  has  been 
observed  B  has  invariably  followed  it,  and  (if  you 
please)  that  whenever  B  has  been  observed  A  has 
invariably  been  found  to  precede  it.  Let  us  further 
suppose  that  the  connection  between  the  two  has 
been  proved  both  by  the  'method  of  difference' 
and  'the  method  of  agreement,'  with  as  much 
completeness  as  anything  can  be  proved  by  these 
means.  Then,  granting  the  principle  of  the  uni- 
formity of  nature,  what  probability  is  there  that 
when  next  A  shall  occur  B  will  be  found  to  follow 
it  ?  It  is  evident  that  unless  this  probability  be 
very  high,  amounting  indeed  almost  to  practical  cer- 
tainty, then,  either  the  confidence  with  which  we 
commonly  regard  the  laws  of  nature  is  greatly 
exaggerated  (since  no  law  can  have  better  experi- 
mental evidence  than  that  which  connects  A  and 
B),  or  else  some  considerations  not  supplied  by  the 


CHAP.  III.]  INDUCTION.  37 

principle  of  the  uniformity  of  nature,  or  the  logic  of 
induction,  have  been  omitted  from  the  proof. 

It  may  be  admitted  at  once  that,  In  a  world  which 
we  assume  to  be  governed  by  law,  the  invariable 
sequence  of  B  on  A  is  a  proof  that  there  is  probably 
some  causal  link,  direct  or  indirect,  between  them. 
In  other  words,  it  is  very  unlikely  that  this  constant 
coincidence  is  the  work  of  chance.  What  the  precise 
numerical  value  of  this  probability  may  be  it  is  not 
easy  to  determine,  but  undoubtedly  It  would  be  very 
large  ;  and  as  we  are  at  liberty  to  imagine  as  many 
coincidences  as  we  please,  we  may  consider  it  as 
practically  infinite.  This  being  granted,  it  would 
seem  to  follow  that,  in  a  uniform  world,  the  most 
confident  expectation  might  be  entertained  that  when 
next  A  appeared,  It  would  be  succeeded  by  B,  and 
this  is,  as  I  understand  It,  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Mill 
and  Mr.  Jevons,  as  it  certainly  is  the  opinion  of 
ordinary  common  sense.  It  is  not,  however,  a  con- 
clusion which  can  be  legitimately  drawn  from  the 
premises  provided  for  us  by  inductive  philosophy,  as 
the  following  considerations  will  show. 

The  fact  that  in  our  experience  A  invariably 
precedes  B  gives  a  certain  probability  In  favour  of 
A  being  causally  connected  with  B.  But  it  gives 
no  probability  at  all  in  favour  of  A  being  the  whole 
cause  of  B.  Every  cause  that  we  are  acquainted 
with  is  complex.  But  there  is  no  process  whatever 
by  which  we  can  show  how  complex  it  is.     Mr.  Mill 


38       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [parti. 

says  somewhere  that  induction  is  a  process  of  elimi- 
nation ;  but  he  gives  no  method,  and  there  is  no 
method,  for  eliminating  all  the  phenomena  which 
do  not  co-operate  with  A  when  it  produces  B. 
Of  course  it  is  easy  to  take  two  cases  of  A  and 
B  occurring,  and  to  say  that  the  circumstances  in 
which  the  two  cases  differed  cannot  be  necessary 
for  the  production  of  B  by  A.  But  this  assertion 
must  be  carefully  qualified  before  it  is  accepted.  If 
we  could  conceive  the  second  case  of  A  occurring  to 
be  precisely  similar  to  the  first  case  except  in  certain 
particulars,  then,  since  B  follows  both  times,  it  is  plain 
of  course  that  these  particulars  are  not  necessary  for 
the  production  of  B.  But  no  such  inference  can  be 
made  if  the  first  case  of  A  occurring  has  some  circum- 
stances which  the  second  has  not,  while  the  second 
has  some  which  the  first  has  not.  It  may  be  that 
these  exceptional  circumstances,  though  different  in 
each  case,  were  in  each  case  necessary,  and  that  with- 
out them  B  would  in  neither  case  have  followed. 

This  piece  of  reasoning  will  perhaps  be  clearer  if 
put  in  a  more  symbolic  form  : — (i)  A  happens  twice, 
and  is  each  time  followed  by  B.  The  first  time  it 
happens  it  is  accompanied  only  by  a,  b,  c;  the 
second  time  it  happens  it  is  accompanied  only  by 
X,  y,  z.  It  is  impossible  to  infer  from  this  that  a,  b, 
c,  X,  y,  z  were  not  essential  factors  in  the  production 
of  B.  {2)  A  happens  twice  and  is  each  time  followed 
by  B.    The  first  time  it  happens  it  is  accompanied  only 


CHAP.  III.]  INDUCTION.  39 

by  a,  b,  c.  The  second  time  it  happens  it  is  accom- 
panied only  by  b,  c.  From  this  It  may  be  inferred  with 
certainty  that  a  Is  not  necessary  to  the  production  of 
B.  Now  It  Is  evident  that  the  canon  of  elimination 
which  could  be  deduced  from  these  two  examples, 
though  logically  perfect,  can  never  be  applied  in 
practice.  It  is  like  Mr.  Mill's  '  method  of  difference ' 
— admirable  If  only  it  could  be  used.  Unfortunately 
we  know  only  an  Infinitesimal  fraction  of  the  pheno- 
mena which  accompany  any  cause,  and  even  to  this 
fraction  the  above  canon  can  never  be  made  to  fit. 
It  invariably  happens  that  the  second  time  A  occurs 
it  will  be  accompanied  by  some  things  which  did  not 
co-exist  with  It  before,  and  will  not  be  accompanied 
by  some  things  which  did  co-exist  with  It  before.  It 
therefore  occurs  under  the  circumstances  mentioned 
in  the  first  of  the  above  formulas,  and  no  Inference 
Is  possible  respecting  the  share  which  any  of  its  ac- 
companiments have  in  the  production  of  B. 

But  it  may  be  said,  '  though  it  Is  impossible  to 
assert  positively  which  of  the  phenomena  accom- 
panying A  are  not  necessary  for  the  production  of 
B,  still  If  we  find  one  of  these  phenomena  only 
occurring  once  In  conjunction  with  A  out  of  the 
many  times  in  which  A  occurs,  we  may  surely  assert 
that  In  all  probability  it  was  on  that  occasion  no  factor 
in  the  production  of  B.' 

It  is  not  necessary  for  my  purpose  to  dispute 
this  ;  whether  it  could  be  successfully  disputed  or  no. 


40       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

For  it  leaves  altogether  unsolved  the  further  problem 
of  how  we  are  to  dispose  of  these  phenomena  which 
are  always  to  be  found  in  company  with  A — the 
fixed  stars,  for  example.  On  what  principle  are  we 
to  say  that  these  are  not  necessary  to  A  in  order 
that  B  may  be  produced  ?  What  is  to  be  our  method 
of  elimination  here  ?  It  cannot  evidently  be  experi- 
ment, because  in  this  respect  every  experiment  is 
identical.  For  the  same  reason  it  cannot  be  obser- 
vation. It  can  be  no  deduction  from  the  theory  of 
probability ;  the  ballot-box  gives  us  no  assistance  ; 
and  common  sense,  which  quietly  ignores  the  diffi- 
culty, furnishes  us  with  no  hint  as  to  the  principle  on 
which  it  does  so. 

Now  if  it  be  admitted,  as  in  theory  I  think  it 
must  be  admitted,  that  every  phenomenon  which  has 
always  accompanied  A  is  as  likely  as  not  to  be  an 
essential  part  of  the  cause  of  B  ;  it  appears  to  follow 
that  our  expectation  that  B  will  in  the  future  follow 
A  must  depend  in  part  on  our  expectation  that  each  of 
the  phenomena  which  have  always  accompanied  A 
will  do  so  again.  But  these  phenomena  are  in  number 
infinite.  We  know,  or  might  know,  thousands  of 
them  ;  yet  those  we  know  are  entirely  lost  in  the 
vast  multitude  of  those  which  we  do  not  know,  but 
which  we  have  every  reason  to  believe  exist  in  the 
infinity  of  space.  Because,  therefore,  we  are  unable 
to  eliminate  the  accompaniments  of  A  which  are  not 
necessary  for  the  production  of  B;  we  have  now  to 


CHAP.  III.]  INDUCTION.  41 

face  the  further  difficulty  of  determining  the  proba- 
biHty  that  these  accompaniments  of  A  will  co-exist 
with  it  in  the  future.  But  this  problem  puts  us  back 
precisely  into  the  position  from  which  we  were 
trying  to  escape.  In  order  to  solve  it,  we  have  to 
traverse  exactly  the  same  ground  as  we  had  when  we 
were  enquiring  into  the  methods  by  which  the  causes 
of  B  were  to  be  discovered.  For  a  case  of  persist- 
ence (and  of  course  still  more  obviously  of  recurrence) 
is  in  reality  a  case  of  causation.  The  persistence  of 
the  planet  Mars,  for  example,  through  another  year 
depends  upon  causes  of  which  its  existence  at  this 
moment  is  only  one.  What  are  these  other  causes  ? 
and  what  is  the  probability  of  their  being  in  operation 
for  another  year  ?  These  are  the  very  questions  we 
asked  when  we  were  trying  to  determine  the  method 
by  which  the  antecedents  of  B  might  be  discovered, 
and  for  which  we  could  find  no  answer.  The  con- 
tinued existence  of  the  planet  Mars  may,  for  any- 
thing we  know  to  the  contrary,  depend  upon  the 
continued  existence  of  the  moon, — a  phenomenon 
which,  as  far  as  our  experience  goes,  has  always  co- 
existed with  it.  What  then  is  the  probability  of  the 
moon's  continuing  to  exist  ?  About  this  precisely 
the  same  series  of  questions  may  be  asked,  meeting 
with  precisely  the  s^-mie  series  of  unsatisfactory 
answers.  So  that  we  find  ourselves  finally  in  this 
position. — Experiment  and  observation,  if  conducted 
under  favourable  circumstances,  can  determine  with 


42       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

a  probability  approaching  to  certainty,  that  a  pheno- 
menon A  is  causally  connected  with  a  phenomenon 
B.  But  neither  experiment  nor  observation  can  give 
us  the  smallest  information  as  to  whether  any  of  the 
infinite  multitude  of  phenomena  which  accompany  A 
whenever  B  is  produced,  are  or  are  not  necessary 
parts  of  the  cause  of  B  ;  nor  can  they  tell  us — and 
for  exactly  the  same  reason — anything  about  the 
probability  of  a  single  one  of  these  accompaniments 
of  A,  however  well  we  may  be  acquainted  with  it, 
continuing  to  accompany  it  in  the  future ;  still  less 
can  they  assist  us  in  computing  the  chances  of  the 
recurrence  or  persistence  of  those  essential  parts  of 
the  cause  of  B  which  may  exist  in  indefinite  num- 
bers, but  of  which  we  know  absolutely  nothing.  In 
other  words—  granting  that  the  course  of  nature  is 
uniform,  no  scientific  methods,  by  the  help  of  this 
principle  alone,  can  give  us  any  assurance  that  the 
laws  of  nature,  which  we  suppose  ourselves  to  have 
discovered,  will  continue  to  operate  in  the  future. 

What  additional  principle,  then,  must  be  esta- 
blished in  order  that  this  assurance  may  be  obtained  ? 
It  is  evident  in  a  general  way  that  the  principle, 
whatever  it  may  be,  must  be  a  principle  of  elimina- 
tion ;  that  is,  it  must  enable  us  to  eliminate  from 
among  the  innumerable  antecedents  of  a  phenomenon 
those  which  we  may  be  certain  have  nothing  what- 
ever to  do  with  its  occurrence.  But  I  confess  my- 
self altogether  unable  to  formulate  such  a  principle, 


CHAP.  III.]  INDUCTION.  43 

much  less  to  prove  it.  There  is,  no  doubt,  a 
practical  instinct,  common  both  to  the  unscientific 
and  to  the  scientific  observer,  which  induces  men  to 
ignore  as  much  as  possible  the  share  which  either 
very  remote  or  very  permanent  phenomena  may 
have  in  the  production  of  the  effects  for  which  they 
are  trying  to  account.  Nobody,  for  example, 
seriously  imagines  that  the  existence  of  a  star  in  the 
Milky  Way  is  a  necessary  concomitant  to  a  spark 
before  it  can  explode  a  barrel  of  gunpowder.  On 
the  other  hand,  this  instinct,  though  it  is  so  strong 
that  it  is  not  easy  gravely  to  discuss  any  theory 
flagrantly  inconsistent  with  it,  can  hardly  be  accurately 
defined,  and  certainly  cannot  always  be  trusted. 
The  most  distant  object  that  has  ever  been  perceived 
has  had  some  appreciable  effect  on  the  affairs  of 
this  planet — since  its  perception  is  in  itself  such  an 
effect ;  and  if  we  consider  permanence, — the  sun, 
which  has  accompanied  every  phenomenon  ever 
experienced,  is  an  essential  and  not  very  remote 
link  in  the  chain  of  causes,  by  which  all  the  events 
that  occur  on  the  surface  of  the  globe  are  pro- 
duced. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  difliculty  of 
proving  the  uniformity  of  nature,  and  the  law  of  uni- 
versal causation,  is  not  the  only  obstacle  which 
stands  in  the  way  of  a  satisfactory  empirical  philo- 
sophy. Even  granting  the  truth  of  these  great 
principles,  it  is  not  easy  to  frame  with  their  help  an 


44       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

inductive  logic,  which  shall  really  enable  us  to  argue 
to  unobserved  instances ;  and,  I  shall  show  in  the 
next  chapter,  could  we  prove  such  laws,  it  would,  to 
say  the  least,  by  no  means  be  sufficient  by  itself  to 
justify  us  in  holding  the  complete  scientific  creed  in 
its  ordinary  shape. 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  45 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HISTORICAL  INFERENCE. 

The  proper  classification  of  the  sciences  is  a  subject 
which  has  of  late  engaged  the  attention  of  scientific 
philosophers,  and  is,  therefore,  it  need  not  be  said, 
one  about  which  there  is  some  difference  of  opinion. 
Into  the  minutiae  of  this  controversy,  the  importance 
of  which  is,  perhaps,  not  very  great,  I  do  not  pro- 
pose to  enter  ;  but  one  broad  division,  not  of  the 
sciences,  indeed,  but  of  science  (for  it  runs  across  the 
lines  separating  the  particular  sciences),  it  is  neces- 
sary that  I  should  recall  to  the  reader,  since  it  has 
an  important  philosophic  bearing  on  the  subject  in 
hand,  and  must  be  constantly  kept  in  mind  through- 
out the  following  discussion. 

Every  statement  concerning  phenomena — in 
other  words,  every  scientific  proposition — is  of  one 
of  two  kinds  : — It  expresses  either  a  law  or  a  fact 
That  anarchy  ends  in  despotism  is  a  law  (whether 
true  or  not  is  of  no  moment) ;  that  the  French  Revo- 
lution gave  birth  to  the  power  of  Napoleon  is  a  fact. 
That  accidental  variations,  which  are  of  use  to  the 
individual  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  are  likely  to 
become  permanent  is  a  law ;  that  existing  species  are 


46       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

produced  by  natural  selection  is  a  fact.  That  all 
forms  of  energy  tend  to  resolve  themselves  into  heat 
at  equal  temperatures  is  a  law ;  that  the  earth  will 
become  an  inert  mass,  containing  no  energy  that  can 
be  turned  into  work,  is  a  fact. 

Now,  in  so  far  as  science  is  founded  upon  obser- 
vation and  experiment  (and  on  the  most  extrava- 
gantly a  priori  theory  these  must  form  an  essential 
part  of  its  groundwork),  it  is  plain  that  all  the  pro- 
positions stating  laws  (which  I  will  call,  the  abstract 
part  of  science)  must  ultimately  be,  to  a  certain  extent, 
founded  on  the  propositions  ^tdXvcig  facts — i.e.  on  the 
concrete  part  of  science.  What  is  perhaps  less  plain, 
but  what  is  no  less  certain,  is,  that  almost  the  whole 
of  our  knowledge  of  concrete  science  is  in  like  manner 
founded  upon  abstract  science.  As  regards  facts 
that  are  still  in  the  future,  this  is  sufficiently  obvious. 
Leaving  supernatural  prophecy  out  of  account,  our 
sole  means  of  foretelling  what  is  to  come  depends 
upon  our  knowledge  of  natural  laws  ;  and  this  indeed 
is,  according  to  some  people,  the  chief  reason  which 
makes  natural  laws  worth  investigating.  A  little 
reflection  shows  that  it  is  equally  true  of  facts  that 
have  already  occurred,  whether  those  facts  be  what 
are  ordinarily  called  scientific,  as,  for  example,  the 
existence  of  the  glacial  epoch,  or  whether  they  are 
what  are  ordinarily  called  historical,  as,  for  example, 
the  death  of  Julius  Caesar. 

Massing  these  together  under  the  common  name 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  47 

*  historical,'  we  may  say  generally  that  a  law  of 
nature  is  an  essential  part  of  every  inference  what- 
ever by  which  we  arrive  at  facts  which  are  occurring 
or  have  occurred,  other  than  those  of  which  we  are 
immediately  informed  by  perception  or  memory  ;  from 
which  it  may  be  deduced  that  every  principle  which 
is  required  to  establish  a  law  must  be  required 
to  establish  a  historical  fact,  though  it  does  not  follow, 
of  course,  that  these  principles  will  be  sufficient.  In 
order  to  determine  this  latter  point,  we  ought  in 
strictness  to  have  before  us  a  complete  list  of  these 
principles,  in  order  that  we  might  apply  them  to 
cases  of  historical  inference.  But  it  will  be  more 
convenient  to  assume  that  our  knowledge  of  the  laws 
of  nature,  as  taught  us  by  science,  is  to  be  trusted, 
and  that  the  only  general  principle  required  for 
arriving  at  this  knowledge  is  the  law  of  universal 
causation.  On  this  assumption  (which  is  sufficiently 
in  accordance  with  current  philosophy)  the  problem 
before  us  would  be  as  follows  : — Given  as  premises 
(ist)  some  knowledge  of  existing  and  recent  facts 
obtained  immediately  by  perception  or  memory; 
(2nd)  a  knowledge  of  the  abstract  laws  of  pheno- 
mena as  set  forth  by  science  ;  (3rd)  the  law  of  causa- 
tion— can  we  deduce  from  these  the  ordinary  version 
of  history,  and,  if  not,  what  additional  principles  will 
be  required  to  enable  us  to  do  so,  and  what  is  the 
evidence  on  which  they  rest  ? 

The  first  of  these  kinds  of  premises — some  know- 


48       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

ledge  of  existing  and  recent  facts — is  not  necessary, 
as  might  at  first  appear,  because  it  is  required  to 
establish  the  laws  of  phenomena;  for  these  are 
already  assumed.  It  is  necessary,  rather,  because 
without  it  nothing  concrete  could  be  inferred  from 
the  abstract  propositions  contained  under  the  second 
and  third  of  the  above-mentioned  heads.  The  exist- 
ence and  distribution  of  phenomena  at  any  given 
period  cannot  be  arrived  at  by  a  mere  knowledge  of 
the  laws  of  phenomena  ;  it  requires  also  some  know- 
ledge of  the  existence  and  distribution  of  phenomena  at 
some  other  period  ;  ultimately,  therefore,  our  mediate 
knowledge  of  the  existence  and  distribution  of  phe- 
nomena, both  in  the  past  and  the  future,  must  depend 
on  some  immediate  knowledge  of  them,  and  we  have 
no  such  immediate  knowledge,  except  concerning  the 
present  and  perhaps  the  recent  past. 

Now,  although  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  phe- 
nomena— that  is,  of  causes  and  their  corresponding 
effects — is  a  necessary  element  in  every  inference 
about  concrete  science,  there  is  a  most  important 
difference  in  the  way  in  which  these  laws  are  em- 
ployed, according  as  we  are  dealing  with  the  futuffe^ 
or  with  the  past.  For  whereas  every  inference  about 
the  future  necessarily  involves  at  least  one  argument 
from  cause  to  effect,  so  every  inference  about  the 
past  necessarily  involves  at  least  one  argument  from 
effect  to  cause,  a  distinction  which,  curiously  enough, 
is  all  in  favour  of  that  department  of  knowledge  con- 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL  INFERENCE.  49 

cerning  which  we  suppose  ourselves  to  know  the 
least — namely,  the  future.  It  seems,  indeed,  clear 
enough  that  the  ordinary  view  is  correct,  and  that  if 
we  knew  all  existing  causes,  and  all  the  laws  binding 
them  to  their  consequents,  and  if  we  had  infinite 
powers  of  calculation,  then,  assuming  the  law  of  uni- 
versal causation  to  be  true,  and  that  no  new  cause  came 
into  operation,  we  could  forecast  the  whole  future 
of  the  universe.  The  '  ifs '  here  are  somewhat  too 
large,  perhaps,  to  make  this  very  substantial  comfort, 
but,  as  the  reader  will  at  once  perceive,  it  is  by  no 
means  obvious  that  even  on  similar  terms  we  could 
give  a  complete  account  of  the  past,  because  it  does 
not  appear  to  be  inconsistent  with  our  assumptions 
to  suppose  that  more  than  one  set  of  causes  could 
have  produced  existing  effects  ;  ^  in  other  words,  that 
more  than  one  version  of  history  is  equally  possible. 
This  reflection,  then,  points  out  very  clearly 
what  is  the  first  question  we  have  more  particularly 
to  examine — namely,  whether  a  knowledge  of  natural 
laws  such  as  we  possess,  combined  with  the  principle 
of  causation,  is  sufficient  to  enable  us  to  overcome 
the  apparent  ambiguity  introduced  into  historical 
inference  by  the  possible  plurality  of  causes  ;  and,  if 
this  question  be  answered  in  the  negative,  we  shall 
then  have  to  determine  whether  any  valid  principle 
can  be  found  to  fill  up  this  gap  in  our  ordinary 
reasoning.     The  enquiry,  it  may  be  observed,  is  of 

*  See  note  on  p.  6^). 
E 


50       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

some  importance,  since  no  issue  less  than  this  has  to 
be  determined — namely,  whether  a  branch  of  science 
of  the  greatest  speculative  interest,  which  has  grown 
in  not  very  many  years  from  an  ill-considered  history 
of  a  few  nations  for  a  few  centuries,  to  an  account, 
in  outline  at  least,  of  the  history  of  the  whole  human 
race,  of  the  organic  world,  of  the  planet  on  which 
we  dwell,  and  of  the  system  to  which  it  belongs — 
whether  (I  say)  this  vast  department  of  knowledge 
deserves  to  retain  its  position,  or  should  be  con- 
sidered as  a  mere  collection  of  illustrations,  by  im- 
aginary, though  possible,  examples,  of  how  natural 
laws  work  or  may  work  in  the  concrete. 

In  order  that  we  may  attack  the  problem  with 
the  best  hope  of  success,  let  us  begin  by  considering 
it  as  simplified  by  certain  arbitrary  limitations.  The 
possibility  of  history,  as  we  have  seen,  rests  on  the 
possibility  of  eliminating  all  sets  of  causes  but  one  of 
existing  effects  ;  let  us  then  at  first  take  into  con- 
sideration only  one  effect,  and  let  us  suppose  that  it 
7nust  have  been  produced  by  one  of  two  causes, 
but  might  have  been  produced  by  either.  Under 
these  conditions,  what  we  have  to  determine  is  the 
ground  which  may  justify  us  in  asserting,  as  we 
so  often  do  assert,  that  one  of  them  was  the  actual 
historical  cause  rather  than  the  other.  To  fix  our 
ideas,  let  us  take  a  concrete  case.  A  collection  of 
flints  broken  into  shapes  rudely  resembling  arrow- 
heads is  found  during  the  course  of  some  excava- 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  51  <f/> 

tion.  No  human  being  (who  need  be  considered) 
doubts  under  these  circumstances  that  one  of  tliS 
causes  of  this  striking  effect  was  the  will  and  in- 
telligence of  man,  though  at  the  same  time  it  is  not 
to  be  denied  that  each  one  of  these  arrow-heads,  and 
therefore  all  of  them,  might  be  the  product  of  that 
unknown  collection  of  mechanical  causes  which  in 
this  case,  for  convenience,  we  may  call  accident. 
Why  do  we  unhesitatingly  reject  accident  in  favour 
of  intelligence  ?  The  answer  is  ready.  The  proba- 
bilities are  infinitely  in  favour  of  the  latter— that 
is,  the  chances  against  accident  are  enormously,  if 
indefinitely,  greater  than  the  chances  against  intel- 
ligence. This  answer,  which  certainly  commends 
itself  to  common  sense,  suggests,  however,  a  further 
enquiry.  On  what  grounds  do  we  form  this  estimate 
of  the  comparative  probability  of  the  two  causes  ? 
It  is  plain  that  we  ought  to  have  some  grounds. 
The  particular  value  that  we  assign  to  the  chance  of 
one  or  other  of  any  two  possible  causes  being  the 
actual  cause  cannot  be  determined  by  mere  abstract 
speculation,  but  must  be  derived  from  some  theory 
respecting  the  conditions  under  which  these  causes 
were  likely  to  have  acted.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see 
that  in  the  example  before  us  these  conditions  are 
supposed  to  be,  on  the  whole,  similar  to  those  which 
obtain  now.  .  It  is  assumed  that  an  arrow-head 
shape  was,  as  it  is,  merely  one  of  an  indefinite 
number  of  other  forms,  all  of  which  ^r€  produced^ 

E   2 


52       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 


in  equal  or  greater  numbers,  by  mechanical  causes, 
and  that  it  waSy  as  it  is,  a  form  which  man  in  a  state 
of  savagery  finds  useful,  and  is  therefore  likely  to 
manufacture  ;  and  on  this  hypothesis  it  is  quite  true 
that  the  chances  in  favour  of  a  human  origin  are 
enormous.  But  it  is  no  less  evident  that  this 
hypothesis  is  itself  the  statement  of  a  historical 
fact ;  that  it  must,  therefore,  involve  an  inference 
from  effects  to  causes  ;  that  these  effects  may  again 
be  conceivably  due  to  more  than  one  set  of  causes  ; 
that  we  must  again  select  one  set  of  causes  rather 
than  another  on  grounds  of  probability,  and  again  be 
obliged,  in  order  to  establish  that  probability,  to 
make  a  new  inference  from  effects  to  causes.  If, 
now,  we  imagine  this  process  carried  on  indefinitely, 
we  may  suppose  ourselves  at  last  to  arrive  at  the 
deduction  of  the  totality  of  causes  from  the  totality 
of  effects.  Supposing,  as  seems  likely  enough,  that 
the  totality  of  effects  might  conceivably  have  been 
produced  by  more  than  one  selection  or  arrangement 
of  causes,  on  what  principle  are  we  now  to  choose 
between  these  conflicting  possibilities  ?  Most  of 
them,  perhaps  all  except  the  one  we  commonly 
select,  would,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted,  seem  in 
the  highest  degree  extravagant  and  improbable. 
But  their  extravagance  is  merely  the  result  of  the 
manner  in  which  they  strike  on  our  imagination  ; 
and  as  for  their  improbability,  I  am  altogether  at  a 
loss  to  see  how,  from  our  principles,  any  estimate  of 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  53 

their  probability  at  all  like  what  we  require  can  be 
founded.  Since  we  are  dealing  with  the  totality  of 
effects,  it  cannot  clearly  be  founded  on  ^ny  further 
inference  from  effect  to  cause,  and  no  other  founda- 
tion seems  to  me  possible,  except  by  the  intervention 
of  some  new  scientific  axiom. 

I  am  afraid  that  this  speculation  may  seem  the 
mere  extravagance  of  scepticism  ;  and  the  illustra- 
tion I  am  about  to  give  may,  perhaps,  strengthen 
the  prejudice  against  my  view,  though  I  hope  it 
may  make  the  grounds  of  it  more  clear  and  in- 
telligible. 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  our  only  source  of 
information  respecting  the  past  was  derived  from 
written  documents — that,  with  the  exception  of 
what  each  man  remembered,  he  knew  absolutely 
nothing  of  times  gone  by  beyond  what  he  read  in 
books  or  MSS.  professing  to  have  been  written  at 
the  various  periods  of  which  they  spoke.  Let  us 
further  suppose  that  from  such  materials  a  more  or 
less  consistent  and  plausible  history  has  been  con- 
structed, and  then  let  us  try  and  determine  the  sort 
of  grounds  we  have  for  estimating  its  probable  truth. 

The  effects  here  are  the  books  and  MSS. ; 
the  causes  inferred  from  these  effects  are — various 
writers  having  access  to  information  about  different 
periods,  who  have  taken  care  to  place  this  informa- 
tion accurately  upon  record.  Since  there  are,  how- 
ever, other  possible  causes,  for  example,  the  inven- 


54       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

tion  by  one  or  more  persons  of  a  story,  and  the 
forgery  of  the  documents  required  for  its  support,  it 
becomes  necessary  to  find  a  principle  which  may 
enable  us  to  choose  between  the  rival  hypotheses. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  the  authenticity  of  any 
document  may  be  shown  by  two  kinds  of  evidence — 
the  external  and  the  internal ;  and  since  internal 
evidence  would  be  defined  as  evidence  drawn  from 
the  document  itself,  it  might  seem  natural  to  con- 
clude that  such  evidence  really  exists,  and  that  it 
might  provide  us  with  the  principle  of  which  we  are  in 
search.  In  strictness,  however,  this  is  not  the  case. 
From  the  character  of  any  document  alone  no  con- 
clusion can  be  drawn  in  favour  of  its  genuineness, 
provided  the  bare  possibility  of  its  forgery  be 
admitted.  Supposing,  for  example,  it  is  said  that 
the  style  and  character  of  thought  of  some  book 
show  it  to  have  been  the  product  of  a  certain  age 
and  country — this  implies  a  knowledge  of  that  age 
and  country  which,  if  it  is  to  be  admitted  as  evi- 
dence, must  clearly  be  derived  from  some  other 
source  than  the  book  it  is  intended  to  vindicate  ; 
and  this  is  equally  true  of  any  possible  characteristic 
which  can  be  adduced  either  for  or  against  any 
theory  respecting  date  of  composition  or  authorship. 
It  would  appear,  indeed,  at  first  sight,  as  if  the 
contents  of  a  book  might  be  so  unlike  the  sort  of 
things  people  invent,  or  so  difficult  to  make  self- 
consistent  if  they  were  invented,  that  its  genuineness 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  55 

could  be  concluded  from  the  mere  consideration  of 
these  peculiarities.  But  even  this  inference  involves 
some  hypothesis  respecting  the  condition  of  the 
world  at  the  supposed  date  of  authorship.  It  sup- 
poses that  the  ability  to  invent  and  the  desire  to 
invent  existed  at  that  time  m  such  degrees  as 
to  make  invention  of  this  sort  highly  improbable  ; 
but  since  this  estimate  cannot  be  founded  on  the 
document  itself  without  a  petitio  principii,  it  must 
be  founded  either  on  some  hitherto  undiscovered 
axiom,  or  on  other  documents,  or  on  other  non- 
documentary  phenomena.  The  first  of  these  possi- 
bilities I  reserve  for  discussion  later  on.  The  last 
is  excluded  by  hypothesis.  There  remains,  there- 
fore, the  second.  But  the  smallest  consideration 
will  show  that  all  the  remarks  just  applied  to  a 
single  document  apply  equally  well  to  any  number 
of  documents  taken  together.  Once  admit  the 
possibility  of  their  forgery,  the  improbability  of  such 
an  event  can  only  be  deduced  from  facts  which  are 
themselves  deductions  from  all  or  some  of  these 
documents,  and  which  consequently  cannot  in  this 
matter  be  used  as  a  basis  of  inference  at  all.  It  may 
be  stated,  therefore,  generally  that  if  we  start  from 
the  arbitrary  hypothesis  with  which  I  began  this 
illustration,  then,  first,  it  is  quite  as  probable  that 
all  history  should  be  fictitious  as  that  some  of  it 
should  be  true ;  and,  secondly^  as  a  necessary 
corollary,   if  two   versions   of  it   are   mutually  ex- 


56       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

elusive,  It  is  impossible  to  say  which  is  the  more 
likely. 

The  general  principle  from  which  this  Is  a 
deduction  seems  to  me,  indeed,  almost  self-evident 
when  clearly  stated.  It  would  run  thus  : — *  If  more 
than  one  cause  can  produce  a  given  effect,  It  Is 
impossible,  by  the  mere  contemplation  of  the  effect, 
to  say  by  what  cause  it  was  probably  produced.' 
The  same  Is  true  of  '  groups  of  effects,'  and  '  groups 
of  causes.'  It  is  also  true  of  the  '  totality  of  effects,' 
and  the  '  totality  of  causes.'  Now,  if  the  '  totality 
of  effects  '  means  existing  effects,  the  '  totality  of 
causes '  Is,  if  not  history,  at  all  events  the  necessary 
foundation  of  history.  Therefore,  the  chances  against 
any  particular  version  of  history  being  true  Is  simply 
as  the  number  of  possible  versions  of  It  Is  to  one.^ 

It  will  be  a  fitting  transition  to  the  next  stage 
In  this  discussion  If  I  here  notice  the  interesting 
effect  which  the  existence  of  one  particular  cause 
has  on  the  validity  of  all  historical  inferences — I 
mean  the  universal  first  cause,  whether  that  be  the 
unknown  x  of  certain  philosophers,  or  the  personal 
God  of  the  theologians. 

It  is  of  the  essence  of  this  idea  of  a  First  Cause 
that  everything  which  exists — in  other  words,  the 
whole  of  the  premises  on  which  we  found  our 
knowledge  of  history — Is  produced  by  It  directly 

*  Strictly  speaking — as  the  number  of  possible  versions  of  it  mmiis 
unity  are  to  one. 


GHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  57 

or  indirectly.  Moreover,  it  is  clearly  impossible 
to  shew  that,  while  It  could  produce  one  set  of 
phenomena  directly.  It  was  only  able  to  produce 
another  set  indirectly,  i.e.,  by  means  of  some  phe- 
nomenal cause  intervening.  From  this  it  follows 
that  there  is  no  period  of  history  at  which  creation 
might  not  have  taken  place ;  nor  am  I  able  to  see 
that,  if  it  did  take  place,  it  would  do  so  at  one 
period  more  probably  than  at  another.  In  other 
words,  whatever  date  in  the  past  we  select,  there 
are  always  two  causes  which  are  equally  likely  to 
have  produced  the  phenomena  then  existing :  the 
one  is  the  group  of  phenomena  which  might  have 
produced  them  according  to  known  laws  ;  the  other 
is  the  First  Cause.  It  may  be  worth  noting  that 
these  remarks  are  true  not  only  of  the  metaphysical 
substance,  whether  personal  or  not,  which  is  the 
origin  of  all  things,  but  also  of  any  phenomena 
-which  may  be  assumed  to  have  produced  the  present 
order  of  nature,  but  of  whose  laws  we  are  ignorant. 
Supposing,  for  example,  it  was  shown  that,  by 
tracing  back  the  course  of  events  through  time,  we 
arrived  at  a  point  where  the  recognised  laws  of 
nature  failed  us,^  and  where  we  were  in  consequence 
compelled  to  assume  a  new,  and,  of  course,  unknown 
set  of  antecedents  acting  in  unknown  ways  ;  in  that 
case  we  should  not  be  justified  in  supposing  that  the 

^  This  speculation  was  suggested  by  certain  physical  theories  re- 
specting the  distribution  of  heat. 


58       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

point  where  the  known  causes  failed  us  was  the 
point  where  the  unknown  causes  came  into  opera- 
tion. The  probabiHties,  in  fact,  are  infinitely  the 
other  way.  For  since  these  causes  are  unknown, 
we  clearly  cannot  say  that  their  properties  are  such 
as  to  make  their  appearance  more  probable  at  one 
time  than  at  another.  That  they  must  appear  at 
some  period  or  other  is  shown,  according  to  our 
hypothesis,  by  the  insufficiency  of  established  laws 
when  followed  up  beyond  a  certain  point ;  but 
since,  also  by  hypothesis,  we  can  predicate  nothing 
of  these  unknown  causes,  except  their  existence  and 
their  power  to  produce  the  present  order  of  nature, 
it  would  seem  that  they  are  quite  as  likely  to  have 
exercised  that  power  at  any  one  instant  of  time  as 
at  any  other. 

The  reader  acquainted  with  the  elements  of 
geometrical  optics  will  see  clearly  the  point  which  I 
am  attempting  to  establish,  if  he  will  consider  the 
distinction  between  a  *  real '  and  a  *  virtual '  image. 
A  spectator  whose  position  is  fixed  is  contemplating 
(let  us  suppose)  what  appears  to  him  to  be  the  flame 
of  a  candle.  He  believes  it  to  be  a  candle  because 
the  rays  of  light  reach  his  eye  precisely  as  they 
would  do  if  they  emanated  from  a  candle  placed 
where  he  sees  the  image  of  the  flame.  Nevertheless, 
in  forming  this  very  natural  conclusion,  he  may  be 
altogether  in  error.  Since  the  rays  would  reach  his 
eyes  in  precisely  the  same  manner,  whether  they  came 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  59 

from  a  real  flame  or  the  virtual  image  of  a  flame 
produced  by  some  optical  contrivance,  and  since  the 
manner  in  which  the  rays  reach  his  eye  is  (we  may 
suppose)  the  sole  ground  on  which  he  can  found  any 
inference  at  all,  it  is  perfectly  plain  that  he  can  have 
no  reason  for  believing  the  one  rather  than  the  other 
to  be  the  true  object  of  perception.  So  it  is  with  us 
and  our  inferences  about  the  past,  if  we  substitute  time 
for  space,  the  facts  immediately  presented  to  us  for  the 
rays  striking  directly  on  the  retina,  and  the  history 
of  the  past,  as  given  to  us  by  science,  for  the  image 
of  the  flame.  If  we  are  fortunate  we  may  be  able 
to  point  to  an  imaginary  condition  of  the  world  at 
some  given  period,  and  say,  '  Trace  out  the  con- 
sequence of  these  causes  according  to  the  known 
laws  of  nature,  and  you  will  arrive  at  the  state  of 
things  you  now  see  around  you,'  just  as  some  one 
might  say,  *  On  the  supposition  that  a  candle  flame 
exists,  your  actual  perception  is  fully  accounted 
for.'  But  just  as  in  the  second  case  a  virtual 
image  would  have  precisely  the  same  effect  as  the 
real  image,  so  in  the  first  case  other  combinations  of 
phenomena  obeying  known  laws,  or  a  metaphysical 
first  cause,  or  phenomena  obeying  unknown  laws 
which  the  failure  of  known  laws  compels  us  to  believe 
in,  might  all  of  them  result  in  the  existing  universe. 
But  whereas  in  the  second  case  the  rays  from  the 
image  would  not  generally  be  the  only  available 
means  of  forming  a  judgment  respecting  the  real 


6o       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

nature  of  their  origin,   and  we  have  usually  some 

other  independent  grounds  for  deciding  in  favour  of 

one  hypothesis  rather  than  another,  in  the  first  case, 

so  far  as  at  present  appears,  it  is  not  so.     Existing 

!^     facts  are  our  sole  (particular)  evidence  for  historic 

^'    facts,  and  if  our  general  principles  can  get  nothing 

j      definite  out  of  them,  science  at  all  events  has  nothing 

\     further  to  suggest. 

All  the  cases  we  have  so  far  considered  have 
these  characteristics  in  common— that  in  each  we 
have  to  choose  between  two  or  more  causes,  or  sets 
of  causes,  which  are  the  possible  historical  ante- 
cedents of  the  world  as  we  see  it ;  that  in  each  the 
causes  between  which  our  choice  lie  are  actual^ 
causes,  that  Is,  are  (by  hypothesis)  known  to  exist  or 
to  have  existed  ;  and  that  In  each  we  have  as  yet 
discovered  no  reason  for  preferring  any  one  possible 
alternative  to  any  other.  But  at  this  point  an  in- 
teresting question  suggests  Itself.  Why  should  we 
retain  the  limitation  (originally  adopted  In  order  to 
simplify  the  investigation)  stated  in  the  second  of  the 
preceding  propositions  ?  On  what  principle  do  we 
confine  our  attention  to  actual  causes  ?  Why  should 
we  not  admit  causes  about  whose  existence  or  non- 
existence now,  or  in  past  times,  we  know  absolutely 
nothing   as  possible    historical   antecedents,    and  if 


^  This  use  of  the  word  'actual '  is  clumsy  and  not  very  accurate  :  but 
as  its  meaning  in  this  connection  is  clearly  defined,  its  employment 
will,  I  hope,  lead  to  no  confusion. 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  6i 

we  do  so  admit  them,  what  effect  will  the  admis- 
sion have  on  the  validity  of  our  ordinary  historical 
inference  ?  The  last  question,  at  all  events,  does  not 
seem  hard  to  answer.  If  we  are  to  admit,  as  ele- 
ments in  the  historic  problem,  an  indefinite  number  of 
such  possible  causes  on  the  same  footing  as  we  now 
admit  actual  causes,  then  (if  we  are  limited  to  our 
initial  assumptions)  all  inference  with  regard  to  the 
past  becomes  impossible.  We  may,  if  we  please, 
amuse  ourselves  by  showing  how  actual  causes  may 
be  a  sufficient  explanation  of  the  facts  as  we  see 
them,  but  we  must  at  the  same  time  admit  that  the 
chances  are  infinitely  against  that  explanation  being 
the  true  one,  and  for  this  obvious  reason  : — since 
every  historical  belief  must  be  founded  in  the  last 
resort  on  an  inference  from  effect  to  cause,  it  follows 
that  if  there  are  an  infinite  number  of  causes,  so  far 
as  we  know,  all  equally  possible,  the  chances  against 
any  one  of  them — therefore  against  any  achcal  one 
of  them — being  the  real  cause  are  also  infinite.  If, 
therefore,  history  is  to  exist  at  all,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary to  show  that  the  actual  causes  are  the  only 
possible  ones,  or,  at  all  events,  that  there  is  a  very 
great  presumption  in  their  favour. 

We  have  now  considered  historic  inference  in  the 
light  of  four  separate  suppositions.  We  have  supposed 
that  our  choice  lay — ist,  between  different  sets  of  phe- 
nomenal causes  whose  laws  are  known  ;  2nd,  between 
a  '  noumenal '  cause  and   phenomenal   causes  ;  3rd, 


62       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

between  phenominal  causes  whose  laws  are  known, 
and  phenonienal  causes  which  are  known  to  have 
existed,  but  whose  laws  are  not  known  ;  4th,  between 
causes  which  are  known  to  exist,  or  to  have  existed, 
and  causes  which,  for  anything  we  at  present  know  to 
the  contrary,  may  have  existed  in  indefinite  numbers. 
In  all  these  cases  there  are  two  alternatives  pre- 
sented to  us ;  in  each  of  them  science  unhesitatingly 
accepts  one  and  rejects  the  other,  and  in,  at  all 
events,  most  instances  common  sense  endorses  the 
choice.  Nevertheless,  the  preceding  discussion  has, 
I  hope,  made  it  plain  that  this  course  derives  no 
justification  from  our  supposed  knowledge  of  the  ab- 
stract laws  connecting  phenomena,  even  when  taken 
in  connection  with  the  law  of  universal  causation. 
It  is  necessary,  therefore,  to  supplement  these  grounds 
of  belief  by  some  other  principle  or  principles,  which 
it  now  becomes  our  business  to  find  out,  and,  if  pos. 
sible,  to  justify. 
r  We  turn  first,  as  is  natural,  to  the  '  Uniformity 
of  Nature.'  But  a  little  reflection  shows  that  it 
scarcely  gives  us  that  of  which  we  are  in  search, 
since,  according  to  one  of  its  meanings,  it  is  in- 
sufficient, while,  according  to  another,  it  is  not  only 
insufficient,  but  untrue.  If  it  be  taken  to  mean,  as 
it  usually  is,  that  the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future 
are  uniform  in  this,  that  the  same  antecedent  is 
always  followed  by  the  same  consequent,  then  it  is, 
of  course,  one  of  the  very  assumptions  with  which 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  63 

we  started,  and  which  have  left  us  with  all  these 
unsolved  problems  on  our  hands.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  means  that  the  same  consequents  are  always 
preceded  by  the  same  antecedents,  we  could,  no  doubt, 
from  this,  in  theory,  construct  a  history  of  the  past 
precisely  to  the  same  extent  and  with  the  same  fatal 
limitations  as  from  the  converse  proposition  we  can 
in  theory  now  construct  a  history  of  the  future.  But 
then,  unfortunately,  this  is  opposed  to  the  practical 
teachings  of  the  very  science  in  aid  of  which  we 
appeal  to  it,  and  is  in  apparent  contradiction  both  to 
*  observation'  and  to  '  experiment.'  ^ 

A  third  meaning,  according  to  which  the  Uni- 
formity of  Nature  would  imply  that  no  supernatural 
interference  with  the  Order  of  Nature,  i.e.,  with  the 
succession  of  natural  causes  and  effects,  was  possible, 

1  This  may  be  a  convenient  place  at  which  to  touch  on  an  objec- 
tion which  the  reader  accustomed  to  regard  the  universe  from  a  me- 
chanical point  of  view  may  be  tempted  to  raise.  He  may  say,  '  I 
utterly  deny  the  possible  plurality  of  causes,  on  the  existence  of  which 
depends  so  much  of  your  argument.  I  hold  that  the  world  may  be 
regarded  as  a  system  of  particles  obeying  mechanical  laws,  that  it  is 
therefore  quite  as  possible  to  reconstruct  the  past,  as  it  is  to  construct 
the  future,  from  the  present ;  and  that  both  operations  may,  in  theory, 
be  carried  out  with  absolute  certainty.'  Since,  however,  this  theo- 
retical possibility  can  never  by  any  accident  be  realised  in  practice,  it 
may,  for  my  purposes,  be  neglected.  I  write  for  human  beings  with 
human  powers  of  calculation.  But  besides  this,  it  is  by  no  means 
proved,  I  believe,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  men  of  science  that  the 
world  IS  a  purely  mechanical  system.  I  am,  therefore,  justified  in  as- 
suming, with  the  majority  of  scientific  philosophers,  that  while  one 
kind  of  cause  can  only  have  one  kind  of  effect,  one  kind  of  effect  may 
have  more  than  one  kind  of  cause.  The  attentive  reader  will  see  that, 
even  were  this  otherwise,  still,  so  long  as  it  is  so  for  our  powers  of  obser- 
vation and  calculation,  the  main  argument  of  the  chapter  remains 
entirely  unaffected. 


64       A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  i. 

would  give  a  solution  of  the  second  problem,  but  of 
the  second  problem  only.  I  know  of  no  proof  of  such 
a  principle,  nor  can  I  conceive  any.  Hume's  argu- 
ment against  miracles,  I  need  not  say,  is  inapplicable. 

Another  general  principle  is  suggested  by  a 
phrase  that  is  sometimes  used — '  The  Simplicity  of 
Nature.'  Let  us  examine  how  far  it  is  possible  to 
extract  from  this  the  premiss  of  which  we  are  in 
search. 

When  we  speak  of  Nature  being  '  simple,'  it  is 
not,  I  presume,  meant  that  its  laws  are  easily  under- 
stood, that  is,  are  '  simple '  relatively  to  our  faculties 
of  comprehension.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  not  the 
case  ;  in  the  second  place,  if  it  were  the  case,  we 
should  derive  no  assistance  from  it  in  our  present 
difficulty,  since  every  one  of  the  alternatives  we  have 
been  weighing  is  as  easily  understood  as  every 
other  ;  and  in  the  third  place,  it  would  involve  the 
hypothesis  of  a  pre-established  harmony  between 
the  'cosmos'  and  the  '  microcosmos  '  which  men  of 
science  at  least  would  be  slow  to  admit.  Nor,  for 
this  same  reason,  can  it  mean  that  the  most  '  simple  ' 
or  '  natural'  explanation — that  is,  the  explanation 
which,  when  understood,  seems,  in  some  vague  way, 
especially  to  commend  itself  to  the  investigator — 
is  always  the  true  one — more  particularly  as  different 
investigators  take  very  different  views  as  to  what 
is  *  natural.'  It  is  clear,  indeed,  that  if  we  are  to  get 
any  assistance  out  of  the  Simplicity  of  Nature,  it 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  65 

must  be  because  the  Simplicity  of  Nature  is  some- 
thing '  objective,'  something  that  can  be  stated  in 
terms  which  have  no  reference  to  the  mind  of  the 
observer,  something  which  merely  expresses  the 
manner  in  which  natural  phenomena  occur.  That 
Nature  employs  the  fewest  possible  number  of  causes, 
or  rather  kinds  of  cause,  to  produce  her  results  (which 
corresponds  to  the  maxim,  '  that  causes  are  not  to  be 
multiplied  without  a  reason  ')  is  a  proposition  which 
conforms  to  these  conditions,  and  which  seems  to 
assert  a  kind  of  simplicity.  Will  this  serve  our  turn  ? 
So  far  as  the  fourth  problem  (which  requires  us 
to  decide  between  known  and  unknown  causes)  is 
concerned,  it  apparently  will.  It  practically  tells  us 
that  If  we  know  of  causes  that  might  have  produced 
a  given  result,  that  these  causes,  or  some  of  them, 
did  actually  do  so.  It  therefore  unquestionably 
affords  a  solution  of  this  problem  exactly  in  accord- 
ance witji  the  ordinary  scientific  view. 

If,  however,  we  examine  Its  bearing  on  the 
first  and  third  problems,  this  does  not  appear  to  be 
altogether  the  fact.  In  these  two  cases  we  are  re- 
quired to  choose  between  kinds  of  cause  which  are 
by  hypothesis  known  to  exist  :  so  that  the  principle 
of  *  Simplicity '  leaves  us  very  much  where  we  were. 
While,  with  regard  to  the  second  problem,  since  the 
alternative  there  lies  between  natural  and  super- 
natural causes,  a  principle  which  (In  so  far  as  it  says 

F 


66      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [part  i. 

anything)  gives  us  Information  only  about  the  former, 
cannot  be  of  much  assistance. 

I  may  add  that,  though  philosophers  never  hesi- 
tate to  appeal  to  the  Simplicity  of  Nature  when  it 
suits  their  convenience,  I  am  not  aware  that  any  of 
them  have  thought  fit  to  supply  us  with  a  proof  of 
its  reality. 

Though  there  seems,  then,  to  be  no  obvious  or 
recognised  principle  which  will  exactly  serve  our 
purpose,  there  must  nevertheless  be  some — perhaps 
unformulated — notion  which  lies  at  the  root  of  ex- 
isting historical  judgments,  and  which  on  analysis 
may  furnish  us  with  the  principle  of  which  we  are 
in  search. 

Now  I  take  this  notion  to  be  that  there  is  a  sort 
of  continuity  in  the  course  of  Nature  through  the  past 
which  discourages  (so  to  speak)  violent  changes  and 
the  interference  of  unknown  causes.  But  such  a 
statement  as  it  stands  is,  it  need  hardly  be  observed, 
far  too  vague  to  have  any  philosophic  value,  and  re- 
quires a  good  deal  of  analysis  before  even  we  come 
to  the  question  of  proof.  To  begin  with,  what  is 
violent  "^  It  cannot,  of  course,  mean  va^x^y  startling, 
as  it  would  then  refer  solely  to  the  effect  produced 
on  the  imagination,  and  could  hardly  be  made  the 
foundation  of  a  canon  by  which  to  judge  the  course 
of  Nature.  It  must,  therefore,  have  some  objective 
meaning  attached  to  it,  though  at  the  same  time  it  is 
clear  that  no  such  meaning  can  be  given  to  it  which 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  67 

shall  have  any  absolute  value.  It  Is,  I  mean,  impos- 
sible to  say  what  is  or  is  not  objectively  a  violent 
change,  except  by  taking  some  particular  change  as  a 
standard  of  comparison.  Now,  what  is  this  standard 
change  ?  It  cannot  evidently  be  a  fixed  or  perma- 
nent rate  of  change  to  which  all  others  must  conform, 
because  if  so  it  must  either  be  one  of  which  we  have 
immediate  knowledge,  or  one  we  have  arrived  at  by 
historical  inference.  It  cannot  be  the  second,  as  this 
(since  we  are  looking  for  a  basis  for  historical  infer- 
ence) would  involve  a  very  obvious  argument  in  a 
circle.  It  cannot,  again,  be  the  first,  because  recog- 
nised history  supplies  us  with  many  more  violent 
changes  than  those  of  which  we  have  immediate  ex- 
perience, so  that  it  is  impossible  both  that  history 
should  be  true  and  that  historic  changes  should  con- 
form to  the  standard. 

A  meaning  which  promises  better  results,  because 
it  does  not  at  first  sight  appear  to  suggest  a  fixed 
standard,  would  be  as  follows  :-= — '  If  there  are  two 
possible  causes  for  any  effect,  that  one  is  to  be  chosen 
which  involves  the  least  violent  change.'  But  this, 
it  must  be  observed,  is  not  a  statement  respecting 
Nature,  but  a  maxim  intended  to  guide  the  judgment 
of  the  natural  philosopher.  It  must,  therefore,  derive 
its  authority  from  some  fact  in  nature,  exactly  as  the 
ordinary  rules  of  induction  derive  their  authority  from 
the  law  of  universal  causation.     Now  what  is  this^i^ 

fact  ?     Our  guesses  (according  to  this  maxim)  be- 

F  2 


68      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,      [part  i. 

come  more  accurate  as  they  approach  a  certain  limit. 
The  smaller  the  change  required  by  the  conclusion, 
the  more  likely  is  the  inference  on  which  that  conclu- 
sion rests  to  be  sound.  But  the  limit  here  implied 
is  a  condition  of  things  under  which  there  would  be 
no  change  at  all,  a  supposition  which  is  absolutely 
incompatible  with  history  and  everything  else. 

It  must  also  be  remarked  that  '  rate  of  change,' 
or  *  amount  of  change/  is  itself  an  expression  to 
which  it  is  only  now  and  then  possible  to  attach  a 
precise  meaning  ;  in  fact,  only  in  those  cases  in  which 
we  are  dealing  with  quantities,  mass,  velocity,  force, 
and  so  forth.  Science  is,  however,  so  far  at  present 
from  being  purely  quantitative  (whatever  it  may 
some  day  become),  that  those  notions  are  far  indeed 
from  being  sufficient  to  cover  the  necessary  ground. 

Since,  then,  it  does  not  seem  easy  even  to  for- 
mulate the  axiom  or  axioms  which  are  required  in 
addition  to  the  law  of  causation  to  justify  our  ordi- 
nary historic  judgments,  the  second  step  in  the 
philosophy  of  the  subject,  by  which  we  seek  to  prove 
or  classify  them  (according  as  they  are  derivative  or 
ultimate),  cannot  be  attempted.  The  truth  of  the 
matter  appears  to  be  that  history  rests  on  a  kind  of 
scientific  instinct,  none  the  less  healthy  because  it 
is  not  very  reasonable.  This,  fortunately,  is  quite 
vigorous  enough  to  resist  the  attacks  of  any  merely 
philosophic  scepticism,  as  any  one  anxious  to  try  the 
experiment  may  discover  for  himself  provided  he  will 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  69 

ask  the  next  man  of  science  he  meets,  whether  (say) 
4000  B.C.  is  not  as  Hkely  as  any  other  assignable  date 
for  the  commencement  of  this  Earth  as  a  separate 
planet.  If  the  enquirer  is  fortunate  enough  to  get 
any  answer  at  all  to  so  absurd  a  question,  he  will  pro- 
bably be  told  that  no  known  causes  are  adequate  to 
the  production  of  existing  effects  in  so  short  a  time. 
To  which  it  may  be  replied,  that  there  is  no  parti- 
cular reason  for  supposing  that  known  causes  have 
been  the  only  ones  in  operation.  On  this  the  man 
of  science  may  not  improbably  rejoin  that  gratuitous 
suppositions  ought  to  be  avoided — that  the  deus  ex 
machmd  is  to  be  excluded  as  much  from  science  as 
from  art.  If  he  were  further  asked  the  grounds  of 
this  canon,  I  do  not  know  exactly  what  would  be  his 
answer,  though  I  know  that  whether  he  could  find  an 
answer  or  not,  the  strength  of  his  convictions  would 
not  be  in  any  way  diminished. 

From  certain  assumptions,  then,  which  seem 
reasonable  enough,  we  have  arrived  at  a  very  nega- 
tive result.  Before  concluding,  it  may  be  as  well  to 
point  out  certain  ways  in  which  the  nature  of  this  con- 
clusion reacts  on  the  premises.  It  will  be  recollected 
that  we  started  with  the  supposition  that,  in  addition 
to  the  law  of  causation,  we  were  to  accept  the  teach- 
ing of  science  so  far  as  particular  abstract  laws  were 
concerned.  But  it  will  be  seen  at  once  that  the  evi- 
dence of  many  of  these  laws  is  itself  historical — i.e., 
depends  on  the  truth  of  the  current  version  of  his- 


70      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.      [part  i. 

tory.  Of  how  many  this  may  be  said  I  do  not  en- 
quire, but  it  is  obviously  true  of  those  which  in  any 
way  depend  on  a  series  of  observations  carried 
through  many  years,  such  as  parts  of  astronomy  and 
sociology  (if  this  is  to  be  considered  a  science). 
It  is  also  true  of  all  laws  which  are  direct  deductions 
from  the  historic  facts  which  alone  are  supposed  to 
exemplify  them,  such  as  parts  of  geology.  What, 
however,  is  of  perhaps  more  interest  is  the  bearing 
which  some  of  the  points  brought  out  in  the  preced- 
ing discussion  have  on  the  empirical  evidence  of  the 
law  of  universal  causation. 

The  nature  of  the  process  of  inference  by  which 
this  great  principle  is  proved  from ,  experience  has 
been  discussed,  and,  I  think,  shown  to  be  invalid,  in 
a  previous  chapter ;  but  one  remark  concerning  the 
premises  of  that  inference  maybe  made  appropriately 
now.  It  was  pointed  out  at  the  commencement  of 
the  chapter  that,  though  our  knowledge  of  the  laws 
of  nature  must  be  founded,  in  part  at  least,  on  our 
knowledge  of  particular  matters  of  fact,  that  never- 
theless all  our  knowledge  of  particular  matters  of  fact 
other  than  those  of  which  we  have  immediate  expe- 
rience, rfiust  in  their  turn  be  founded  upon  our 
knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nature.  Now,  it  is  com- 
monly admitted  that  a  law  of  nature  depends  for  its 
generality  upon  the  law  of  universal  causation,  in 
other  words,  is  extended  to  unobserved  instances 
solely  by  means  of  that  law  ;  from  which  it  follows, 


CHAP.  IV.]  HISTORICAL   INFERENCE.  71 

that  the  law  of  universal  causation  is  a  necessary 
premiss  in  every  inference  by  which  we  arrive  at  , 
historical  facts.    What  I  have  been  hitherto  attempt- 
ing to  show  is,  that  even  assuming  this  premiss  to  be 
true,  there  is  an  inevitable  ambiguity  in  the  inference  ; 
what  I  now  wish  to  insist  on  is,  that  whether  those . 
views  be  true  or  false,  this  at  any  rate  is  certain,  that 
if  the  law  of  universal  causation  be  founded  on  expe- 
rience at  all,  that  experience   must   be   extremely 
limited.     Empirical    philosophers,    dilating   on    the 
accumulated  evidence  we  have  for  this  law,  are  in 
the  habit  of  telling  us  that  it  is  the  uncontradicted 
result  of  observations  extending  through  centuries  ; 
but  they  have  omitted  to  notice,  that  unless  we  first 
believe  in  the  law,  we  can  have  no  reason  for  be- 
lieving in  the  observations.     Turn  the  matter  as  we 
will,  the  fact  that  mankind  have  been  observing  or 
doing  anything  else  for  centuries,  cannot  be  to  any 
of  us  a  matter  of  direct  observation  or  intuition.     It 
must,  therefore,  be  an  inference ;  and  if  an  inference 
from  experience,  the  only  experience  it  can  be  in- 
ferred from,  is  the  immediate  and  limited  experience 
of  each  individual ;  this,  therefore,  either  at  one  re- 
move or  two,  is  the  only  possible  empirical  founda- 
tion for  the  law  of  causation,  or  any  other  general 
principle. 

This  argument  does  not  show,  of  course,  that 
empirical  philosophy  is  false ;  but  it  does  show, 
beyond   question,    that   it  is  not  plausible.     What- 


72      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.      [part  i. 

ever  be  its  philosophic  vakie,  there  is  certainly  some- 
thing consolatory  to  common  sense  in  the  Idea  that 
our  convictions  rest  on  a  broad  basis  of  experience. 
There  is  something  practical  in  the  very  sound  of  a 
phrase  which  implies  a  method  of  judging  that  most 
satisfactorily  distinguishes  us  from  the  pre- Baconian 
philosophers.  But  when  it  becomes  evident  that  this 
*  broad  basis '  Itself  rests  on  the  exceedingly  narrow 
basis  of  individual  experience,  when  it  is  once  under- 
stood that  what  I  perceive,  and  remember  having 
perceived,  is  my  sole  ground  for  believing  that  people 
in  past  ages  perceived  anything  at  all,  empiricism 
certainly  loses  much  of  Its  dignity,  though  its  philo- 
sophic value  remains,  perhaps,  very  much  what  it 
was  before, 


CHAP,  v.]         INTRODUCTION   TO   PART   11.  73 


PART   XL 
CHAPTER   V. 

INTRODUCTION  TO  PART  IL 

In  the  three  preceding  chapters  I  have  discussed 
empirical  reasoning  concisely,  but  I  hope  sufficiently, 
from  three  different  points  of  view.  I  showed,  in 
the  first  place,  that  whereas,  according  to  this  philo- 
sophy, all  our  knowledge  is  derived  from  particulars, 
that  there  was  nevertheless  no  method,  or  at  all 
events  no  method  hitherto  discovered,  by  whicli 
inference  from  particulars  was  possible  ;  and  that 
Mr.  Mills  theory  on  this  subject  will  in  no  sense 
bear  minute  examination.  From  this  reasoning  it 
necessarily  follows  that  pure  empiricism  is  not  at 
present  a  tenable  system  ;  but  there  is  a  kind  of 
mixed  or  spurious  empiricism,  which,  taking  for 
granted  (on  no  very  explicit  or  intelligible  grounds) 
the  principle  of  universal  causation,  assumes  that  by 
the  help  of  this  alone  we  can  argue  from  particular 
matters  of  fact  to  the  general  laws  of  phenomena. 
This  I  imagine  to  be  a  not  uncommon  view  among 
men  of  science,  and  to  be  that  formally  put  forward 


74      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

by  Mr.  Jevons  in  his  *  Principles  of  Science.'  The 
assumption  required  by  this  theory  is  evidently  a 
large  one — so  large,  indeed,  as  to  make  it,  philo- 
sophically speaking,  nearly  worthless  ;  but,  even 
granting  that  assumption,  I  showed  in  the  next  place, 
in  the  third  chapter,  that  no  experience,  however 
large,  and  no  experiments,  however  well  contrived 
and  successful,  could  give  us  any  reasonable  assur- 
ance that  the  co-existences  or  sequences  which  have 
been  observed  among  phenomena  will  be  repeated 
in  the  future.  This  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  induc- 
tive logic  (even  granting  the  uniformity  of  Nature) 
is  worthless,  since  it  can  do  no  more  than  find  a  rule 
according  to  which  all  known  instances  of  an  event 
have  occurred,  without  giving  us  any  right  to  extend 
this  rule  to  instances  which  are  not  known. 

It  appears,  then,  that  neither  the  mixed  and  in- 
complete empiricism  considered  in  the  third  chapter, 
still  less  the  pure  empiricism  considered  in  the  second 
chapter,  affords  us  any  satisfactory  method  for  infer- 
ring the  laws  of  nature  from  particular  observations 
or  experiments  ;  but  even  this  does  not  exhibit  the 
full  weakness  and  inadequacy  of  scientific  logic,  for 
in  the  fourth  chapter  I  showed  that,  granting  \k\2X  we 
possessed  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  phenomena, 
and  granting  the  truth  of  the  law  of  universal  causa- 
tion— in  other  words,  granting  the  truth  of  that  which 
it  was  shown  in  the  two  preceding  chapters  could 
not   be   proved — it  was   impossible,   even  on  these 


CHAP,  v.]        INTRODUCTION   TO   PART  II.  75 

terms,  to  arrive  at  any  knowledge  of  historical  facts, 
taking  this  expression  In  Its  widest  sense  as  Including 
alL-tfeat  has  occurred  outside  our  Individual  sphere  of 
immediate  experience. 

I  have  therefore  stated  three  distinct  objections 
that  may  be  taken  to  the  ordinary  proof  of  current 
scientific  beliefs.  Empirical  philosophy,  so  far  as  I 
can  see,  gets  over  none  of  them  ;  though  every  one 
of  them  must  be  got  over  by  any  system  which  has 
pretensions  to  being  an  adequate  philosophy  of 
science.  This  being  so.  It  Is  not  necessary,  I  sup- 
pose, to  dwell  longer  on  this  part  of  the  subject, 
even  if  by  so  doing  other  difficulties  might  be  started 
equally  hard  of  solution.  It  will  be  convenient  rather 
to  proceed  at  once  to  the  next  branch  of  the  enquiry. 

The  reader  will  recollect  that  in  the  first  chapter 
philosophy  was  divided  into  the  philosophy.-o£  infer- 
ence and  the  philosoplvy^f  ultimate  premises.  The 
three  preceding  chapters  may  be  described  as  dealing 
in  the  main  with  the  first  of  these  divisions  ;  and  we 
still  require  therefore  to  give  a  more  particular  con- 
sideration to  the  second.  How  is  this  subject  to  be 
approached  ?  On  the  whole,  perhaps,  most  con- 
veniently by  taking  the  premises  which,  if  not  ulti- 
mate from  a  philosophic  point  of  view,  are  at  any 
rate  ultimate  from  a  scientific  point  of  view — i.e., 
those  on  which  science  depends,  but  which  do  not 
depend  on  science — and  trying  to  find  out  the  proof, 
or  kind  of  proof,  of  which  they  are  susceptible. 


\ 


76      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  il. 

Now  these  premises  consist  (so  far  as  I  can  judge), 
in  the  first  place,  of  certain  unknown  principles,  shown 
in  the  third  and  fourth  chapters  to  be  necessary 
to  the  validity  of  science,  but  which,  since  they  are 
unknown,  need  no  longer  detain  us.  In  the  second 
place,  of  the  Law  of  Universal  Causation  ;  which,  as 
was  shown  in  the  second  chapter,  cannot  be  proved 
by  induction  ;  and,  in  the  third  place,  of  individual 
or  particular  experiences,  which  (as  will  be  shown  in 
the  ninth  chapter,  though  it  is  here  assumed)  must 
be  supposed  to  refer  to  a  persistent  universe. 

It  is  the  evidence  of  these  last  two  premises 
or  kinds  of  premiss  which  will  now  chiefly  occupy 
us  ;  but  as  the  discussion  of  this  matter  will  oblige 
me  to  deal  with  a  great  many  dissimilar  and  dis- 
connected systems,  a  change  of  method  will  be 
necessary.  I  shall  make  henceforth  no  attempt  to 
link  each  chapter  to  that  which  precedes  and  follows 
it  by  an  argumentative  chain.  On  the  contrary, 
each  chapter  will  contain  a  discussion  as  complete  as 
seems  necessary  of  one  subject,  and  it  will  only  be 
related  to  the  other  similar  chapters  inasmuch  as  it 
proceeds  from  the  same  basis  and  leads  to  the  same 
conclusion. 

Before  entering,  however,  into  this  more  extended 
examination  of  the  various  methods  by  which  philoso- 
phers have  attempted  to  establish  the  existence  of  a 
persistent  universe  governed  by  causation,  I  shall  per- 
haps be  asked  whether  this  is  a  matter  which  really 


CHAP,  v.]         INTRODUCTION   TO   PART   II.  77 

requires  proof  at  all.  Is  not  the  belief  (it  may  be 
said)  in  the  reality  of  such  a  universe  one  of  those 
truths  which  lie  at  the  root  of  all  knowledge,  for 
which  proof  is  impossible,  or,  if  possible,  still  un- 
necessary ?  I  reply  that  this  is  a  question  the  true 
answer  to  which  may  be  suggested,  but,  from  the 
nature  of  things,  cannot  be  demonstrated.  Each 
person  must,  in  the  last  resort,  decide  for  himself 
whether  or  not  any  given  proposition  is  to  his  mind 
of  the  kind  I  have  described  in  the  first  section  as 
'ultimate.'  In  this  particular  case  all  that  can  be 
said  is  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  law  of  causation 
does  not  appear  to  be  accepted  in  its  integrity  by 
the  greater  part  of  the  human  race,  and  that  those 
who  do  accept  it  seem  to  feel  the  necessity  of  found- 
ing it  upon  some  kind  of  proof :  either  upon  expe- 
rience, which,  as  I  have  already  shown,  can  furnish 
no  proof  at  all ;  or  upon  some  of  the  philosophical 
principles  which  it  will  be  my  business  to  examine 
in  the  sequel.  With  regard  to  a  persistent  universe, 
the  case  is  somewhat  different.  Everybody  prac- 
tically believes  in  it,  even  those  who  speculatively 
question  it :  but  at  the  same  time  the  verdict  of  all 
philosophy  seems  to  be  that  the  dogma  asserting 
its  existence  is  one  which  can  be  speculatively  ques- 
tioned, and  must  therefore,  if  it  be  true,  be  capable 
of  some  speculative  defence.  So  many  demon- 
strations of  it  have  been  offered,  that  it  may  well  be 
assumed  that,  in  the  judgment  of  those  qualified  to 


78      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

decide,  some  demonstration  is  required.  If,  how- 
ever, anyone  still  thinks  that  this  is  a  matter  which 
those  interested  in  the  rational  foundation  of  science 
may  be  permitted  to  neglect,  the  following  consider- 
ations may  perhaps  induce  him  to  alter  his  opinion. 
If  an  immediate  knowledge  of  a  persistent  world 
is  given  us  at  all,  it  will  be  admitted,  I  think,  that  it 
is  given  us  in  perception  ;  if  its  existence  is  an  ulti- 
mate fact  which  cannot  and  need  not  be  proved,  it  is 
a  fact  of  which  we  are  assured  by  what  is  somewhat 
absurdly  called  the  *  direct  evidence  of  the  senses.' 
In  other  words,  we  know  that  there  is  a  persistent 
world  much  in  the  same  sort  of  way  and  with  the 
same  absolute  assurance  as  we  know  that  we  feel 
hot  or  cold.  The  first  question,  therefore,  which 
has  to  be  asked  is,  What  do  we  know  immediately 
and  with  certainty  by  means  of  perception  ?  The 
answer  suggested  by  the  psychology  of  Berkeley 
and  Hume  in  effect  amounted  to  this.  The  only 
things  we  know  and  can  know  immediately  are 
our  own  sensations  and  ideas.  Objects  are  merely 
groups  of  sensations.  Imagined  objects  are  merely 
groups  of  ideas ;  and  as  these  pass  and  vanish 
away,  so  do  the  things,  of  which  they  are  in  truth 
the  only  real  constituents,  cease  to  have  any  but 
a  nominal  existence.  While  they  were  real  they 
were  *  affections  of  the  mind,'  and  when  they  ceased 
to  be  affections  of  the  mind,  they  ceased  to  be  any- 
thing. 


CHAP,  v.]        INTRODUCTION   TO   PART   II.  79 

The  soundness  of  this  psychology,  which,  if  true, 
would  completely  dispose  of  any  immediate  know- 
ledge of  a  persistent  world,  is,  however,  open  to 
question.  It  is  maintained  by  thinkers  of  a  dif- 
ferent school^  that  in  perceiving  objects  we  cannot 
properly  be  said  to  perceive  either  sensations  or 
related  sensations,  or  even  facts  of  sensation,  but  only 
qualities  of  objects  ;  qualities  which  are  constituted 
not  by  sensations  but  by  relations,  and  whjgh^re . 
therefore  thought  but  cannot  be  felt.  If  this  theory 
of  perception  Be  sound,  it  is  evident  that  the  argu- 
ment of  the  psychological  idealist  cannot  be  main- 
tained in  the  shape  in  which  I  have  just  stated  it. 
If  the  world,  as  it  is  immediately  perceived,  does  not 
consist  of  sensations,  it  need  not  evidently  be  tran- 
sient merely  because  sensations  are  so.  We  there- 
fore have  again  to  ask  ourselves  whether  in  percep- 
tion we  gain  an  assurance,  both  immediate  and  re- 
flective, of  the  existence  of  persistent  objects  f  and 
to  this  question,  though  without  subscribing  to  all 
their  views,  I  ^nswer,  as  the^j^sydiological  jded^ 
answered.  No. 

^  Cf.  Mr.  Green's  edition  of  Hume,  and  an  article,  published  after 
the  greater  part  of  this  essay  was  written,  in  the  Contemporary  Review, 
March  1878. 

"^  The  reader  may,  perhaps,  be  inclined  hastily  to  imagine  that  an 
assurance  cannot  be  both  immediate  ««^ reflective.  This  combination 
is,  however,  not  only  possible,  but  it  ought  to  be  found  in  all  ultimate 
premises,  and  is  actually  found  in  the  axioms  of  mathematics.  A 
proposition  of  which  we  have  immediate  reflective  assurance,  is  one 
which,  after  reflection,  is  seen  to  be  certain  without  proof. 


8o      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

I  must  here  guard  against  a  possible  miscon- 
ception which  may  be  suggested  by  the  word  '  im- 
mediate.' In  one  sense  of  the  term  all  the  know- 
ledge, real  or  supposed,  which  is  obtained  by  per- 
ception alone  may  be  called  immediate  :  since  know- 
ledge obtained  through  any  conscious  process  of 
inference  is  ipso  facto  mediate.  Nevertheless,  we 
cannot  properly  be  said  to  have  an  assurance, 
both  immediate  and  reflective,  of  the  truth  of  all 
the  facts  we  immediately  perceive.  Our  real  or 
supposed  knowledge  of  the  facts  is  immediate  ;  our 
reflective  assurance  of  the  truth  of  these  facts  is  cer- 
tainly not  immediate.  If,  for  example,  I  see  an 
object  in  space,  my  knowledge  of  its  real  shape  and 
size  is  obtained  by  no  piece  of  conscious  reasoning, 
and  cannot  therefore  be  appropriately  described  as 
mediate  or  derivative.  Nevertheless,  the  reflective 
assurance  that  the  thing  seen  is  actually  that  shape 
and  size,  and  not  merely  shaded  and  coloured 
so  as  to  look  as  if  it  were,  can  only  be  arrived  at  by 
a  more  or  less  elaborate  process  of  inference,  and 
must  undoubtedly  therefore  be  looked  on  as  mediate. 
In  harmony  with  this  explanation  our  original  ques- 
tion would  therefore  run  thus  : — Conceding  that  we 
immediately  perceive  the  existence  of  a  persisting 
universe,  is  the  reflective  assurance  that  such  a  uni- 
verse exists  immediate,  or  is  it  legitimate  (if  it  be  so 
at  all)  only  in  virtue  of  a  process  of  inference  ?  To 
my  thinking,  the  bare  consideration  of  the  problem 


CHAP,  v.]         INTRODUCTION   TO   PART   II.  8i 

so  stated  is  sufficient  to  show  that  the  latter  alterna- 
tive should  be  accepted.  It  appears  to  me  that  the 
immediate  belief  which  the  majority  of  mankind 
certainly  have  in  the  reality  of  such  a  universe  is  of 
the  same  kind  as  that  which  they  had  in  the  apparent 
motion  of  the  sun  and  stars  ;  and  that,  on  reflection, 
speculative  doubt  is  not  only  possible  and  legiti- 
mate, but  is  hardly  to  be  avoided. 

If  anyone  disagrees  with  this  statement,  I  would 
ask  him  how  he  deals  with  the  admitted  occurrence 
of  optical  or  other  (so-called)  illusions  of  the  senses  ? 
In  such  cases  the  judgment  revSpecting  the  persistence 
of  the  object  perceived  is  as  immediate,  and  is  given 
in  perception  precisely  in  the  same  way,  as  it  is 
when  perception  is  normal.  The  only  difference  is 
that  on  reflection  it  is  seen  to  be  incorrect.  And  by 
what  method  is  its  incorrectness  shown  ?  By  show- 
ing its  inconsistency  with  the  order  of  nature  as 
revealed  to  us  by  science.  But  unless  there  exists  a 
persisting  universe,  the  order  of  nature,  as  revealed 
to  us  by  science,  is  a  dream.  If  therefore  the  exist- 
ence of  such  a  universe  is  given  us  merely  in  percep- 
tion, we  can  assert  that  a  particular  object  is  transient 
only  by  a  mediate  inference  from  an  authority  whose 
immediate  verdict  is  that  it  is  persistent.  *  True/  it 
may  be  replied,  '  but  this  is  a  fact  which  presents  no 
difficulty.  We  are  constantly  correcting  one  obser- 
vation by  means  of  another,  without  concluding  from 
this,  that  observation  is  a  means  of  acquiring  know- 

G 


82      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

ledge  unworthy  of  credit.  This  shows  that  two 
authorities  of  precisely  the  same  kind  may  qualify 
without  destroying  each  other,  and  without  giving 
rise  to  any  suspicions  of  latent  contradiction. 
In  what  lies  the  distinction  between  this  case 
and  the  one  stated  above  ? '  The  distinction  lies  in 
this  :  that  In  the  second  case  the  scientific  obser- 
vations correct  and  can  correct  each  other  only  on 
the  presupposition  which  It  is  the  business  of  the 
perceptions  in  the  first  case  to  establish.  We  can 
extract  a  single  truth  out  of  a  series  of  observations 
only  on  the  supposition  that  they  all  deal  with  a 
single  object,  and  they  can  only  deal  with  a  single 
object  if  that  object  persists  through  at  least  the 
whole  period  over  which  the  observations  extend. 
If  perceptions  can  correct  each  other  only  on  similar 
terms,  it  would  seem  tolerably  plain  that  they  cannot 
correct  each  other  when  the  question  In  dispute  is 
whether  the  object  perceived  has,  or  has  not,  the 
attribute  of  persistence.  If  there  be  a  persistent 
world,  the  fact  that  the  '  evidence  of  our  senses ' 
occasionally  misleads  us  as  to  its  true  character  may 
be  of  small  Importance.  But  if  our  whole  ground 
for  believing  In  the  existence  of  a  persistent  world 
be  derived  from  the  evidence  of  the  senses,  the  fact 
that  they  deceive  us,  though  only  occasionally,  casts 
a  suspicion  over  all  the  rest  of  their  testimony. 

Reverting  to  the  remarks  on  the  psychology  of 
perception  made  a  few  pages  back,  the  reader  may 


CHAP,  v.]         INTRODUCTION   TO    PART   II.  83 

perhaps  say — *  If  objects  are  constituted  by  relations 
which  are  thought,  not  felt,  may  not  one  of  the  rela- 
tions by  which  they  are  constituted  be  that  very  per- 
sistence whose  reality  you  tell  us  has  to  be  inferred  ? 
May  not  the  assurance  that  objects  persist  be  thus 
given  in  the  process  of  sense  perception,  though  not, 
strictly  speaking,  derived  from  the  evidence  of  the 
senses  ? ' 

Now  I  do  not  at  present  deny  that  such  assur- 
ance may  be  legitimately  attained  by  reasoning  on  the 
basis  of  the  psychology  which  offers  us  this  analysis 
of  the  perceived  object.  But  without  at  present 
going  into  this  question,  it  is  safe,  I  suppose,  to  assert 
that  to  think  an  object  as  persisting  cannot  make  it 
persist.  Whatever  may  be  the  truths  of  which  we 
are  immediately  assured  in  perception,  that  the  object 
perceived  actually  has  any  qualities  we  choose  to 
attribute  to  it,  cannot  be  one.  To  suppose  the  con- 
trary is  to  fall  into  an  error  similar  to  that  according 
to  which  the  existence  of  God  was  demonstrated 
from  the  fact  that  existence  was  part  of  His  essence. 
Grant  that  everything  which  is  real  is  thought,  it 
cannot  be  the  fact  that  everything  which  is  thought 
is  real,  since  if  it  were  so,  mistakes  as  to  the  true 
nature  of  any  object  would  be  impossible  ;  a  doctrine 
as  subversive  of  science  as  any  form  of  idealism  ever 
devised. 

These  preliminary  remarks  have,  of  course,  not 
been  intended  as  even  a  proximate  solution  of  any 

G  2 


84      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

philosophic  problem.  Their  object  has  been  to 
suggest  doubt,  not  to  establish  scepticism.  They 
have  aimed  at  convincing  anyone  inclined  to  an 
easy  acquiescence  in  his  natural  convictions,  that  the 
reality  of  the  subject-matter  of  science  is  not  a  thing 
that  should  too  readily  be  taken  for  granted.  Our 
natural  convictions  may  be  right,  but  they  must  be 
shown  to  be  right.  Proof  of  some  kind  is  necessary  ; 
and  where  proof  is  necessary,  scepticism  is  possible. 
All  that  I  here  contend  for  is  that  a  preliminary  ex- 
amination of  what  perception  tells  us — no  assumption 
being  made  as  to  the  truth  of  any  particular  psycho- 
logical theory,  and  no  use  being  made  of  the  words 
*  subjective,'  *  objective/  or  '  external ' — fails  to  show 
that  scepticism  is  noi(  possible.  So  that  if  ever  this 
is  to  be  established  it  must  be  by  the  help  of 
systems  which,  whatever  be  the  nature  of  their  con- 
clusions, cannot  be  accepted  without  criticism.  I 
pass  now  to  the  most  important,  the  most  elaborate, 
and  the  most  difficult  of  these  systems,  which,  in 
harmony  with  the  terminology  it  employs,  I  venture 
to  call  *  Transcendentalism.' 


CHAP,  vi.j  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  85 


CHAPTER  VI. 

TRANSCENDENTALISM. 

That  the  pure  empiricism  still  in  fashion  among 
scientific  philosophers  leads  naturally  to  scepticism 
is  a  fact  which  has  been  familiar  to  certain  schools  of 
thought  ever  since  Hume  presented  it  to  the  world 
stripped  of  its  plausibilities.  It  is  hardly  to  be 
believed  that  so  subtle  a  thinker  did  not  himself 
perceive  the  ultimate  consequences  of  his  reasoning. 
He  must  have  been  perfectly  aware  that  on  his 
system  a  philosophy  of  science  was  impossible ; 
nevertheless,  his  *  Essay  on  Miracles'  and  occasional 
announcements,  such  as  that  with  which  he  ends 
his  '  Enquiry  concerning  the  Human  Understand- 
ing,' appear  to  have  quite  convinced  natural  philo 
sophers  that  his  scepticism  merely  undermined  re- 
ligion— a  result  which  to  most  of  them  was  a  cause 
of  very  moderate  uneasiness.  If,  however,  they 
ignored,  and  still  ignore,  the  wider  reach  of  that 
engine  of  destruction,  it  has  not  been  for  want  of 
telling. 

Hume  himself  makes   no  effort  to  conceal   it, 
and  the  sneer  with  which  he  informs  the  students 


86      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

of  science  that  theirs  is  the  only  kind  of  knowledge 
worth  pursuing,  is  scarcely  less  obvious  than  that 
with  which  he  tells  the  theologian  that  the  most 
solid  foundations  of  religion  are  '  faith '  and  '  divine 
revelation.'  But  Hume's  own  view  of  his  position 
is  not  the  only,  nor  even  the  main,  evidence  for 
the  sceptical  nature  of  the  conclusions  to  which  his 
theories  necessarily  lead.  On  that  scepticism,  as 
we  have  been  informed  with  sufficient  iteration,  is 
founded  the  whole  imposing  structure  of  modern 
German  philosophy;  and  modern  German  philo- 
sophy, whatever  be  its  value,  is  not  a  phenomenon 
which  easily  escapes  notice.  If  it  gives  little  light 
it  is  not  because  it  is  hidden  under  a  bushel.  In 
all  probability,  however,  its  very  magnitude  has  pre- 
vented it  from  materially  influencing  the  course  of 
scientific  philosophy  in  this  country  ;  and  I  believe 
I  may  almost  say  from  permanently  influencing 
scientific  philosophy  even  in  Germany.  A  man 
may  be  forgiven  if,  before  seriously  attempting  to 
master  so  huge  a  mass  of  metaphysics,  composed  of 
several  inconsistent  systems,  difficult  of  comprehen- 
sion from  their  essential  natures,  still  more  difficult 
from  the  extraordinary  jargon  under  which  the  in- 
genuity of  man  has  concealed  their  import — he  may 
be  forgiven,  I  say,  if  he  pauses  and  considers  whether 
the  time  may  not  be  better  spent  in  reading  some- 
thing he  is  more  likely  to  understand.  It  is,  how- 
ever,  unfortunate    that   this   pardonable,   and    even 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  87 

laudable,  caution  should  have  prevented  so  many 
people  from  trying  to  comprehend  the  exact  diffi- 
culty which  Kant  and  Kant's  successors  saw  in  the 
empiricism  of  Hume,  and  the  extremely  ingenious 
method  which  they  adopted  in  order  to  avoid  it ; 
for  when  these  are  understood,  it  becomes  at  once 
plain  that  the  difficulty  is  a  real  one,  and  that  the 
solution  offered  of  it,  at  any  rate,  deserves  consider- 
ation. 

The  relation  in  which  Kant  stands  to  Hume  is 
not  a  topic  which  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  discuss  ; 
nor,  if  it  v/ere,  could  I,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  add 
anything  to  what  Professor  Green  and  Professor 
Caird,  not  to  mention  previous  commentators,  have 
already  written  on  the  subject. 

What  more  directly  concerns  my  purpose  is  to 
examine  the  answer  which,  as  I  suppose,  a  trans- 
cendentalist  would  make  to  the  scepticism  of  the 
preceding  chapters,  on  the  only  two  points  where 
his  defence  of  the  grounds  of  science  and  my  attack 
really  meet  on  common  ground.  I  mean  *  causation ' 
and  the  '  existence  of  a  persistent  and  independent 
world.' 

Now  the  usual  way  in  which  the  transcendental 
problem  is  put  is,  *  How  is  knowledge  possible  ? ' 
and,  taking  transcendentalism  as  an  answer  to  Hume, 
this,  the  usual  way,  is  also  the  most  natural,  because 
it  was  Hume's  theory  of  the  origin  of  knowledge 
which  led  necessarily  to  scepticism.     As,  however. 


S8      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

in  this  essay  I  have  put  forward  no  theory  of  the 
origin  of  knowledge,  from  my  point  of  view  the 
question  should  rather  be  stated,  '  How  much  of 
what  pretends  to  be  knowledge  must  we  accept  as 
such,  and  why  ? '  My  business,  therefore,  is  to  ex- 
tract from  the  answer  which  the  transcendentalist 
gives  to  the  first  enquiry,  an  answer  which  shall,  if 
possible,  satisfy  the  second  ;  and  for  this  purpose  it 
is  necessary  to  make  a  slight,  though  only  a  slight, 
change  in  the  usual  mode  of  stating  his  doctrine. 

The  reader  will  recollect,  that  in  the  first  chapter 
I  insisted  on  the  obvious  truth  that  every  tenable 
system  of  knowledge  must  consist  partly  of  premises 
which  require  no  proof,  and  partly  of  inferences 
which  are  legitimately  drawn  from  these.  What, 
then,  on  the  transcendental  theory,  are  our  premises, 
and  by  what  method  do  we  derive  from  them  the 
required  conclusion  ? 

If  we  were  simply  to  glance  at  transcendental 
literature,  and  seize  on  the  first  apparent  answers  to 
these  questions,  we  should  be  disposed  to  think  that 
the  philosophers  of  this  school  assume  to  start  with 
the  truth  of  a  large  part  of  what  is  commonly  called 
science, — the  very  thing  which,  according  to  my  view 
of  the  subject,  it  is  the  business  of  philosophy  to 
prove.  '  Respecting  pure  mathematical  and  pure 
natural  science,'  says  Kant,^  '  as  they  certainly  do 
exist,  it  may  with  propriety  be  asked  how  they  are 

^  Critique  J  p.  13.    Tr. 


CHAP,  vl]  transcendentalism.  89 


possible ;  for  that  they  must  be  possible  is  shown  by 
the  fact  of  their  really  existing.' 

'  The  question,  How  is  knowledge  possible  ?  is 
not,'  says  Professor  Green,  '  to  be  confused  with  the 
question  upon  which  metaphysicians  are  sometimes 
supposed  to  waste  their  time,  Is  knowledge  possible  ? 
....  Metaphysic  is  no  superfluous  labour.  It  is 
no  more  superfluous,  indeed,  than  is  any  theory  of  a 
process  which  without  theory  we  already  perform.'  ^ 
Passages  of  this  sort  would  almost  lead  one  to  con- 
clude that  the  business  of  transcendental  speculation 
was  not  to  justify  beliefs,  but  to  account  for  their 
existence  ;  to  tell  us  how  we  do  a  thing,  not  whether 
we  ought  to  do  it :  a  view  by  which,  apparently, 
philosophy  is  regarded  as  dealing  with  the  laws  of 
thought  much  as  physiology  deals  with  the  laws  of 
digestion.  If  this  were  so,  transcendentalism  might 
be  an  important  and  useful  department  of  science, 
but  it  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  subject  of 
this  essay.  It  would  answer  no  doubt,  it  would 
solve  no  difficulty.  But,  in  truth,  the  language 
often  used  by  Kant  and  echoed  above  by  Professor 
Green,  if  not  incorrect,  is  certainly  misleading. 
Transcendentalism  is  philosophical,  in  the  sense  in 
which  I  have  ventured  to  use  the  term  ;  it  does 
attempt  to  establish  a  creed,  and,  therefore,  of  neces- 
sity it  indicates  the  nature  of  our  premises  and  the 

^  Contemporary  Review  J  T)tc.  i^j  J. 


90      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

manner  in  which  the  subordinate  beHefs  may  be 
legitimately  derived  from  them. 

On  the  first  point  its  statements  are  not,  indeed, 
explicit  and  categorical ;  but  this  is  simply  because, 
for  historical  reasons,  the  philosophic  problem  has 
not  been  presented  to  it  exactly  in  the  shape  which 
makes  such  statements  necessary.  Nevertheless,  all 
I  suppose  that  a  transcendentalist  would  postulate  in 
the  first  instance,  or  rather  all  that  each  man  who 
studies  his  system  is  required  to  postulate,  is  that  he 
knows,  and  is  certain  of,  sornethmg ;  he  is  conscious, 
for  example,  or  may  be  conscious,  that  he  perceives 
a  coloured  object,  or  a  particular  taste  ;  in  other 
words,  he  gets  some  knowledge,  small  or  great,  by 
experie7ice. 

This  very  moderate  concession,  then,  being 
granted,  as  it  must  be  granted,  by  the  sceptic,  the 
next  question  that  arises  is.  How  can  any  knowledge 
worth  speaking  of  be  inferred  from  such  premises  ? 
It  is  in  the  answer  to  this  that  such  force  and 
originality  as  there  may  be  in  transcendentalism  is 
really  to  be  found;  and  it  is  here  that  the  full 
meaning  of  the  question  which  is  placed  at  the  head 
of  that  philosophy  becomes  manifest.  '  You  allow,' 
we  may  suppose  a  transcendentalist  to  say,  '  You 
allow  that  experience  is  possible ;  you  allow  that 
some  knowledge,  though  it  may  only  be  of  the  facts 
of  immediate  perception,  can  be  obtained  by  that 
channel.     I  therefore  ask  you  ''  how  that  experience 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  91 

is  possible " — in  what  it  essentially  consists  ?  and 
whatever  fact  or  principle  I  can  show  to  be  involved 
in  that  experience — whatever  I  can  prove  must  be, 
if  that  experience  is  to  be — of  that  you  must,  in 
common  consistency,  grant  the  reality.'  A  principle 
so  proved  is  said  to  be  *  transcendentally  deduced,' 
and  it  is  the  validity  of  that  deduction  in  the  cases 
of  causation  and  the  existence  of  a  persistent 
world,  that  it  is  my  business  more  particularly  to 
examine. 

The  whole  value,  then,  of  the  transcendental 
philosophy,  so  far  as  the  questions  raised  in  -this 
essay  are  concerned,  must  depend  on  its  being  able 
to  show  that  the  trustworthiness  of  these  far-reaching 
scientific  postulates  is  involved  in  those  simple  ex- 
periences which  everybody  must  allow  to  be  valid. 
If  it  cannot  prove  this,  it  may  still  be  a  valuable 
contribution  to  a  possible  philosophy ;  it  may  still 
show  by  its  searching  analysis  all  that  is  implied  in 
the  existence  of  nature,  as  w^e  ordinarily  understand 
nature,  and  of  the  sciences  of  nature  as  we  are  taught 
to  accept  them ;  but  more  than  this  it  cannot  do  :  it 
cannot  show  either  that  such  a  nature  exists,  or  that 
our  accounts  of  it  are  accurate  ;  it  cannot,  in  other 
words,  supply  us  with  a  philosophy  adequate  to  our 
necessities. 

Before  going  on  to  consider  the  general  value 
of  this  method,  or  the  success  of  its  application  in 
particular  instances,  it  may  be  well  to  give  some 


92      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

examples  of  its  reasonings  by  which  its  precise 
character  may  be  more  clearly  understood.  Here, 
for  instance,  is  one  taken  from  Kant's  proof  of 
the  principle  of  substance  :  '  Change  cannot  be  per- 
ceived by  us  except  in  substances,  and  origin  or 
extinction  in  an  absolute  sense,  that  does  not  con- 
cern merely  a  determination  of  the  permanent,  can- 
not be  a  possible  perception,  for  it  is  the  very  notion 
of  the  permanent  v/hich  renders  possible  the  repre- 
sentation (perception)  of  a  transition  from  one  state 
into  another,  and  from  non-being  into  being,  which 
consequently,  can  be  empirically  cognised  only  as 
alternating  determination  of  that  which  is  permanent. 
....  Substances  in  the  world  of  phenomena  are 
the  substratum  of  all  determinations  of  time.  .... 
Accordingly,  permanence  is  a  necessary  condition 
under  which  alone  phenomena,  as  things  or  objects, 
are  determinable  in  a  possible  experience.'  ^ 

Now  the  point  of  this  demonstration  lies,  as  the 
reader  will  see,  in  showing,  or  attempting  to  show, 
that  experience  of  change  is  not  possible  unless  we 
assume  unchanging  substance.  Therefore,  if  we  can 
experience  changes  (as  we  most  certainly  can),  we 
are  forced  also  to  admit  the  existence  of  that  without 
which  change  would  have  no  meaning. 

Here  is  another  argument  of  the  same  kind 
respecting  causation,  which  I  quote  from  Professor 
Green's    introduction    to    Hume:     'A    uniformity 

*  Critique,  pp.  140,  141.     Tr. 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  93 

which  can  be  thus  (i.e.,  by  a  single  instance)  esta- 
blished is,  in  the  proper  sense,  necessary.  Its  ex- 
istence is  not  contingent  on  its  being  felt  by  any- 
one or  everyone.  It  does  not  come  into  being  with 
the  experiment  that  shows  it.  It  is  felt  because  it  is 
real,  not  real  because  it  is  felt.  It  may  be  objected, 
indeed,  that  the  principle  of  the  ''uniformity  of  nature," 
the  principle  that  what  is  fact  once  is  fact  always, 
itself  gradually  results  from  the  observation  of  facts 
which  are  feelings,  and  that  thus  the  principle  which 
enables  us  to  dispense  with  the  repetition  of  a  sensi- 
ble experience  is  itself  due  to  such  repetition.  The 
answer  is,  that  feelings  which  are  conceived  as  facts 
are  already  conceived  as  constituents  of  a  nature. 
The  same  presence  of  the  thinking  subject  to,  and 
distinction  of  itself  from,  the  feelings  which  renders 
them  knowable  facts,  renders  them  members  of  a 
world  which  is  one  throughout  its  changes.  In 
other  words,  the  presence  of  facts  from  which  the 
uniformity  of  nature  as  an  abstract  rule  is  to  be 
inferred,  is  already  the  consciousness  of  that  uni- 
formity in  concreto!  ^  In  this  extract  the  argument 
is,  that  facts  are  unknowable,  i.e.,  are  no  facts  for  us, 
except  as  members  of  a  uniform  nature.  We  may 
be  as  certain,  therefore,  of  the  uniformity  of  nature 
as  we  are  certain  that  we  can  know  facts  ;  which  is 
another  way  of  saying  that  we  need  have  no  doubt 
about  the  matter  at  all. 

1  Pp.  273,  274. 


94      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

These  quotations  are  not  long  enough,  perhaps, 
to  do  full  justice  to  the  argument  of  which  they  con-^ 
tain  one  statement ;    but  they  are  long  enough  to 
show  of  what  sort  the  argument  in  either  case  is. 
And  the  essential  force  or  point  of  those  arguments, 
as  against  the  sceptic,  seems  at  first  sight  to  lie  in 
this :    the   sceptic,  in  questioning  any  principle,   is 
shown  to  be  making  an  illegitimate  abstraction  from 
the  relations  which  constitute  an  object,  an  abstrac- 
tion which  is   illegitimate,  because   it   renders    the 
object   meaningless   and    unthinkable.     He   has   to 
choose,  therefore,  between  altogether  giving  up  the 
reality  of  the  object,  or  admitting  a  principle  implied 
by  one  of  the  relations  of  which  that  reality  can  be 
shown  to  consist.     He  cannot,  in  all  cases  at  least, 
do   the   first ;    he   is   bound,    therefore,    to   do   the 
second. 

Now,  before  proceeding  to  examine  the  force  of 
this  reasoning,  as  it  is  employed  in  proving  parti- 
cular points,  one  difficulty  must  be  discussed  which 
attaches  to  it  generally. 

When  a  man  is  convinced  by  a  transcendental 
argument,  it  must  be,  as  I  have  explained,  because 
he  perceives  that  a  certain  relation  or  principle  is 
necessary  to  constitute  his  admitted  experience. 
This  is  to  him  a  fact,  the  truth  of  which  he  is 
obliged  to  recognise.  But  another  fact,  which  he 
may  also  find  it  hard  to  dispute,  is  that  he  himself, 
and,  as  it  would  appear,  the  majority  of  mankind, 


CHAP,  vl]  transcendentalism.  95 

have  habitually  had  this  experience  without  ever 
consciously  thinking  it  under  this  relation  ;  and  this 
second  fact  is  one  which  it  does  not  seem  easy  to 
interpret  in  a  manner  which  shall  harmonise  with 
the  general  theory.  The  transcendentalist  wouldj 
no  doubt,  say  at  once  that  the  relation  in  question 
had  always  been  thought  implicitly,  even  if  it  had 
not  always  come  into  clear  consciousness  ;  and  having 
enunciated  this  dictum  he  would  trouble  himself  no 
further  about  a  matter  which  belonged  merely  to  the 
*  history  of  the  individual.'  But  if  an  implicit  thought 
means  in  this  connection  what  it  means  everywhere 
else,  it  is  simply  a  thought  which  is  logically  bound 
up  in  some  other  thought,  and  which  for  that  reason 
may  always  be  called  into  existence  by  it.  Now, 
from  this  very  definition,  it  is  plain  that  so  long  as  a 
thought  is  implicit  it  does  not  exist.  It  is  a  mere 
possibility,  which  may  indeed  at  any  moment  become 
an  actuality,  and  which,  when  once  an  actuality,  may 
be  indestructible ;  but  which,  so  long  as  it  is  a  possi- 
bility, can  be  said  to  have  existence  only  by  a  figure 
of  speech. 

If,  therefore,  this  meaning  of  the  word  *  implicit ' 
be  accepteci,  we  find  ourselves  in  a  difficulty. 
Either  an  object  can  exist  and  be  a  reality  to  an 
intelligence  which  does  not  think  of  it  under  rela- 
tions which,  as  I  now  see,  are  involved  in  it,  i.e., 
without  which  I  cannot  now  think  of  it  as  an  object ; 
or  else  I  am  in  error,  when  I  suppose  myself  and 


96      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

other  people  to  have  ignored  these  relations  in  past 
times.  If  the  first  of  these  alternatives  is  true,  the 
whole  transcendental  system,  as  I  understand  it, 
vanishes  in  smoke ;  if  the  second,  it  comes  into 
apparent  conflict,  not  only  with  science,  and  with  the 
avowed  scientific  opinions  of  many  of  its  disciples, 
but  with  the  later  form  of  the  transcendental  philo- 
sophy itself.  For  by  that  system  the  development 
of  thought  is  in  stages  ;  it  is  driven  on  by  its  own 
proper  nature  from  one  stage  to  another  till  the 
highest  of  them  is  reached,  where  alone  it  can  find 
rest  and  satisfaction.  But  those  who  believe  most 
firmly  in  this  theory  by  no  means  intend  to  assert  as 
a  historical  fact  that  every  thinking  being  is  intel- 
lectually restless  until  he  has  grasped  the  philosophy 
of  the  Absolute.  What  they  must  rather  be  held  to 
mean  is,  that  the  inadequacy  and  self-contradiction 
of  a  universe  thought  under  any  of  the  lower  cate- 
gories can  be  demonstrated,  and  when  demonstrated 
to  me  or  any  other  thinking  being,  I  or  he  may  be 
obliged  to  seek  repose  by  including  the  contradictory 
elements  under  some  category  which  shall  reconcile 
them  in  a  higher  unity ;  but,  they  must  admit  that, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  this  demonstration  has  been 
vouchsafed  to  few.  There  are  not  many,  for 
example,  who,  whatever  their  perplexities,  can  find 
intellectual  satisfaction  in  such  a  formula  as  this: 
'  The  universe  is  the  process  whereby  spirit  exter- 
nalises itself,  or  manifests  itself  in  an  external  world, 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  97 

that  out  of  this  externaUty,  by  a  movement  at  once 
positive  and  negative,  it  may  rise  to  the  highest  con- 
sciousness of  self'^  The  great  body  of  mankind 
certainly  prefer  a  contradiction  which  they  do  not 
see,  to  a  reconciliation  which  they  do  not  under- 
stand ;  and  what  I  desire  is — not  to  be  shown  how, 
on  transcendental  grounds,  such  a  position  is  unten- 
able,— but  how  its  existence,  as  a  fact,  is  to  be  con- 
sistently accounted  for.  The  analogy  of  the  ordinary 
logic  is  here  misleading.  It  is  true,  no  doubt,  that 
we  may  intelligently  hold  premises  without  perceiving 
all  or  any  of  the  deductions  which  may  be  legiti- 
mately drawn  from  them,  and  that,  in  asserting  the 
premises  in  such  a  case,  we  implicitly  assert  the  con- 
clusion ;  but  this  presents  no  difficulty,  because  it  is 
not  the  recognition  of  the  conclusion  which  makes 
sense  of  the  premises.  In  transcendental  reasoning 
the  case  is  exactly  the  other  way.  The  ground,  and 
the  whole  ground,  on  which  we  are  forced  by  that 
reasoning  to  recognise  the  reality  of  certain  rela- 
tions, is,  that  without  those  relations  the  object  of 
which  we  have  experience  would  be  as  nothing  for 
us  ;  it  would  have  neither  meaning  nor  significance  ; 
and  what  I  wish  to  know  is,  how  it  happens  that 
there  exists  any  object  at  all  for  so  many  people 
who  are  wholly  innocent  of  any  knowledge  of 
those  relations  by  which  it  is  said  to  be  consti- 
tuted.     If   there  is  any  value  in  this    objection,  it 

^  Caird's  Kant^  p.  427. 
H 


98      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

would  apparently  follow  from  it  that  movement  or 
inference  in  this  logic  is  an  impossibility.  So  long 
as  the  transcendentalist  refuses  to  move — so  long  as 
he  merely  declines  to  abstract  the  relations  by  which 
an  object  is  already  constituted, — he  stands,  perhaps, 
on  firm  ground  ;  but  directly  he  tries  to  oblige  us 
to  think  a  thing  under  new  relations,  his  method 
becomes  either  ineffective  or  self-destructive.  If,  on 
the  one  hand,  we  can  think  the  object  not  under  these 
new  relations,  there  is  nothing  in  the  method  to 
compel  us  to  do  so  ;  for  the  method  consists  in  show- 
ing that  without  this  new  relation  the  object  would 
not  exist  for  us  as  thinking  beings.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  cannot  think  it  except  under  these  new  re- 
lations, then,  either  we  were  not  thinking  it  before 
or  the  relations  are  not  new  ;  and  in  either  case 
there  is  no  inferential  movement  of  thought  from 
the  known  to  the  unknown. 

From  these  reflections  it  would  appear  that  the 
transcendentalist  must  either  give  up  the  seeming 
fact  on  which  his  system  depends,  or  explain  away  a 
seeming  fact  which  is  inconsistent  with  it.  The  first 
fact  is,  that  a  given  relation  is  necessary  to  constitute 
a  knowledge  of  an  object ;  the  second  fact  is,  that  a 
great  many  intelligent  beings,  and  the  transcenden- 
talist himself,  during  the  earlier  part  of  his  life  among 
the  number,  appear  able  to  know  it  out  of  this  rela- 
tion. 

Now,   one   solution   of  this   difificulty   has   been 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  99 

already  disposed  of ;  it  has  been  shown,  or  rather 
stated  (for  the  assertion  requires  no  proof),  that  a 
thought  which  is  merely  implicit  is  really  no  thought 
at  all,  it  is  a  creation  of  language,  which  can  consti- 
tute nothing  because  it  is  nothing.  It  may  however, 
perhaps,  be  said  that  the  thought  is  neither  merely 
implicit  nor  wholly  explicit,  but  exists  in  a  kind  of 
intermediate  stage  between  nonentity  and  the  fulness 
of  clear  consciousness  ;  a  stage  in  which  it  is  strong 
enough,  so  to  speak,  to  '  constitute  an  object,'  but 
not  strong  enough  to  be  known  to  the  individual  for 
whom  it  performs  this  important  function. 

This  is  apparently  one  of  the  views  taken  by  the 
transcendentalist^;  for  Kant  says,  with  the  approval 
of  Professor  Caird,  that  *  the  consciousness  (of  a 
unity)  may  be  but  weak,  so  that  we  become  aware 
of  it  only  in  the  result  produced,  and  not  in  the  act 
of  producing  it ;  but  that,  nevertheless,  the  unity 
of  consciousness  must  always  be  present,  though 
it  has  not  clearness  sufficient  to  make  it  stand  out'  ^ 
In  other  words,  the  unity  of  consciousness  which  is 
necessary  for  the  existence  of  any  experience  may 
lie  hidden,  like  a  drop  of  some  powerful  chemical 
reagent,  until  its  presence  is  made  certain  by  the 
analysis  of  its  results. 

Such  a  theory  as  this  requires  us  to  hold  that 
thought  may,  so  to  speak,  diminish  the  amount  of 
its   being   till    it  ceases    to  be  known  as   thought, 

^  See  Caird's  Kant,  p.  395. 
H  2 


100    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 


thought  not  to  behave  as  such  ;  and  no  doubt  the 
first  half  of  this  statement  is  correct.  That  a  sen- 
sation can  be  weaker  or  stronger,  can  change  its  in- 
tensive quantity  (to  use  the  technical  expression)  is, 
of  course,  plain.  It  can  also  be  thought  of  under 
more  or  fewer  relations.  And  in  both  these  ways 
it  may  be  said  to  have  varying  degrees  of  being. 
The  same  may  be  said,  mutatis  mutandis,  of  thought. 
According  as  we  fix  our  attention  on  the  relation 
rather  than  on  the  things  related,  so  we  may,  I 
suppose,  say  that  our  consciousness  of  the  relation 
increases  or  diminishes  ;  but  the  utmost  diminution 
of  which  the  consciousness  is  capable  without  anni- 
hilation, makes  no  alteration  in  its  quality  ;  and  if 
the  consciousness  vanishes,  the  thought  must  vanish 
too,  since,  except  on  some  crude  materialistic  hypo- 
thesis, they  are  the  same  thing.  This  quantitative 
or  intensive  diminution  of  being,  then,  will  not  ex- 
plain the  apparent  fact  that  so  many  people  do  not 
feel  the  necessity  of  thinking  things  under  their  sup- 
posed necessary  relations. 

The  second  manner  in  which  any  object  of 
thought  can  be  imagined  to  vary  its  being  depends 
on  the  number  of  relations  by  which  it  is  qualified  ; 
and  in  this  respect  thought  also,  not  less  than  sensa- 
tion, may  be  said  to  increase  or  diminish.  Relations 
may  be  compared  and  classed — that  is,  may  be 
thought  under  relations  not  less  than  feelings  ;  and 
as,  no  doubt,  a  relation  which  is  not  so  compared 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.,''  ^     ;  '    '    ici 

and  classed  cannot  be  an  object  of  thought,  cannot 
be  known  as  a  relation,  it  may  be  supposed  that  here 
we  have  a  definition  of  that  intermediate  stage 
which  is  required  to  smooth  over  our  difficulties. 
Every  man,  it  may  be  said,  really  thinks  objects 
under  the  relations  which  seem  to  us,  who  have  been 
enlightened  by  transcendentalism,  to  be  necessary  ; 
but  he  is  not  aware  that  he  does  so,  because  he  has 
not  taken  the  trouble  to  consider  them  from  the 
points  of  view  from  which  alone  they  can  appear  as 
relations  to  him.  But  if  this  be  trye,  what  becomes 
of  the  identity  of  the  *  esse '  and  the  *  intelligi '  ? 

If  relations  can  exist  otherwise  than  as  they  are 
thought,  why  should  not  sensations  do  the  same  ? 
Why  should  not  the  '  perpetual  flux '  of  unrelated 
objects— the  metaphysical  spectre  which  the  modern 
transcendentalist  labours  so  hard  to  lay, — why,  I 
say,  should  this  not  have  a  real  existence  1  We^ 
indeed,  cannot  in  our  reflective  moments  think  of  it 
except  under  relations  which  give  it  a  kind  of  unity  ; 
but  once  allow  that  an  object  may  exist,  but  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  make  it  nothing  for  us  as  thinking 
beings,  and  this  incapacity  may  be  simply  due  to  the 
fact  that  thought  is  powerless  to  grasp  the  reality  of 
things. 

The  transcendentalist,  then,  would  seem  pecu- 
liarly bound  to  admit  what  no  philosopher,  perhaps, 
would  be  disposed  to  deny,  that  thought  which  is 
not  known  as  thought  cannot  properly  be  said  to 


rp2-   A;r?5:5EKC,E  of  philosophic  doubt,    [parth. 

exist  at  all.  He  is  therefore  reduced  to  one  of  two 
alternatives.  Either  he  must  maintain  that  it  is  an 
error  of  memory  and  observation  to  suppose  that 
every  intelligence  does  not  at  all  times  think  objects 
under  their  necessary  relations,  or  else  he  must  hold 
that  a  necessary  relation  is,  not  a  relation  that  is 
actually  required  to  constitute  an  object  for  a  think- 
ing being,  but  is  only  one  which,  upon  due  reflection, 
a  thinking  being  is  unable  to  make  abstraction  of. 

The  first  of  these  alternatives  is  somewhat  too 
violent  a  contradiction  of  that  experience  which  it 
is  the  business  of  transcendentalism  to  justify,  to  be 
seriously  maintained  by  transcendentalists.  Accord- 
ingly we  find  them  admitting  the  fact  that  necessary 
relations  are  not  always  thought  as  qualifying  the 
object  they  are  supposed  to  constitute ;  in  other 
words,  accepting  the  second  of  the  alternatives  men- 
tioned above,  but  at  the  same  time  declining  any 
responsibility  concerning  a  circumstance  which,  ac- 
cording to  them,  has  to  do  only  w4th  the  history  of 
the  individMal. 

*  The  ''  I  think," '  says  Kant  (I  am  quoting  Pro- 
fessor Caird's  translation),  '  must  be  capable  of  ac- 
companying all  my  ideas,  for  otherwise  something 
would  be  presented  to  my  mind  which  could  not  be 
thought ;  and  that  is  the  same  thing  as  to  say  that 
the  idea  would  be  either  impossible,  or,  at  least,  it 
would  be  nothing  for  me.'  Again,  *  All  ideas  have 
a  necessary   reference  to  a  possible  empirical  con- 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  103 

sciousness  ....  but,  again,  all  empirical  conscious- 
ness has  a  necessary  reference  to  a  transcendental 
consciousness.  .  .  .  The  mere  idea  "  I,"  in  reference 
to  all  other  ideas  (whose  collective  unity  it  makes 
possible),  is  the  transcendental  consciousness.     This 
idea  may  be  clear  (empiric  consciousness)  or  obscure. 
This  we  do  not  need  to  consider  at  present,  nor  even 
whether  it  actually  exists  at  all  ;  but  the  possibility 
of  the  logical  form  of  all  knowledge  rests  necessarily 
on  the  reference  of  it  and  this  apperception  as  a 
faculty!     '  In  other  words,*  says    Professor   Caird, 
commenting  on  this  passage,  *  Kant  is  here  examin- 
ing what  elements  are  involved   in  knowledge,  and 
therefore  does  not  need  to  consider  how  far  the  clear 
consciousness  of  them  is  developed  in  the  individual, 
nor  indeed  whether  tJie  individual  ever  actually  deve- 
lopes  that  consciousness  at  all.     The  individual  (the 
sensitive  being  who  becomes  the  subject  of  know- 
ledge) may  be  at  different  stages  on  the  way  to  clear 
self-consciousness.      He  may  be  sensitive  with  merely 
the  dawning  of  consciousness  :  he  may  be  conscious 
of  objects,  but   not  distinctly   self-conscious  ;  or,   he 
may  be  clearly  conscious  of  the  identity  of  self  in 
relation  to  the  objects.     Thus  we  can  imagine  him 
to  have  many  perceptions,  which  he  has  not  distinctly 
combined  with  the  idea  of  self;  or  we  may  even 
suppose  him   (like  children  in  the  earliest  period  of 
their  life)  not  to  have  risen  to  the  idea  of  self  at  all, 
to  the  separation  of  the  ego  from  the  act  whereby 


104    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

/the  object  is  determined.  But  we  cannot  imagine 
ihim  to  have  any  ideas  which  are  incapable  of  being 
Icombined  with  the  idea  of  self,  for  such  ideas  would 
Joe  ideas  incapable  of  being  thought,  incapable  of 
forming  part  of  the  intelligible  contents  of  conscious- 
ness ;  they  would  be  for  us  a  thinking  being,  "  as 
good  as  nothing."  Though,  therefore,  we  can  think 
of  an  experience  in  which  all  the  elements  which  the 
critical  philosopher  distinguishes  are  not  consciously 
or  separately  present  to  the  individual,  we  cannot 
think  of  an  experience  which  does  not  imply  them 
all.'  ^  From  these  extracts  it  would  appear  that  both 
Kant  and  Kant's  latest  expositor  are  agreed  in 
^thinking  that  all  that  is  required  to  constitute  a 
perception — in  other  words,  an  experience— is  not 
that  the  object  of  that  perception  should  actually  be 
/thought  in  the  relations  which  we  are  told  are  neces- 
sary to  make  it  an  object,  but  only  that  it  should  be 
capable  of  being  so  thought.  But  with  such  an  ad- 
mission the  whole  transcendental  argument  appears 
to  me  to  vanish  away.  The  rules  which  thought 
was  supposed  to  impress  upon  Nature,  according  to 
which  Nature  must  be,  because  without  them  she 
would  be  nothing  to  us  as  thinking  beings, — these 
rules  turn  out,  after  all,  to  be  only  of  subjective 
validity.  They  are  the  casual  necessities  of  our  re- 
flective moments  :  necessities  which  would  have  been 
unmeaning  to  us  in  our  childhood,  of  which  the  mass 

*  Phil,  of  Kant ^  p.  396. 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  105 

of  mankind  are  never  conscious,  and  from  which  we 
ourselves  are  absolved  during  a  large  portion  of  our 
lives.  To  argue  from  these  necessities  to  the  truth) 
of  things  is  merely  to  repeat  the  old  fallacy  abouD 
innate  ideas  in  another  form,  for  if  thought  does  not^ 
make  experience  (and  it  appears  that  in  any  intelli- 
gible meaning  of  that  expression  it  does  not),  then 
there  is  no  reason  for  supposing  that  experience  need 
conform  to  thought. 

The  net  result  of  this  discussion  appears,  then, 
to  be  that,  according  to  transcendentalism,  relations 
are  involved  in  experience  in  at  least  two  ways,  the 
difference  between  which,  though  it  is  never  recog- 
nised by  that  philosophy,  is  exceedingly  important. 
According  to  the  first  way,  an  explicit  consciousness 
of  the  relation  in  question  is  a  necessary  element  in 
every  possible  experience  ;  without  it  the  experience 
would  be  '  nothing  to  us  as  thinking  beings,'  and  by 
it,  therefore,  the  experience  may  very  fairly  be  said  >^ 
'  to  be  constituted.'  But  the  number  of  relations,  \ 
necessary  in  this  sense,  cannot  be  large,  even  ac- 
cording to  the  transcendentalists  themselves  ;  nor  can 
the  necessity  ever  be  established  by  argument,  since 
the  mere  fact  that  somebody  who  knows  the  mean- 
ing  of  the  words  he  uses  disputes  it,  proves  that  it 
does  not  exist.  If  a  man  does  not  find  that  a 
particular  relation,  about  which  there  is  a  question, 
is  involved  in  his  experience,  an  argument  founded 
on  the  circumstance  that  no  experience  is  possible 


io6    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

which  is  not  in  fact  constituted  by  an  explicit  con- 
sciousness of  such  a  relation,  is  not  likely  to  convince 
him  that  it  is  there.  The  mere  consideration  that 
proof  is  required  makes  proof  impossible. 

The  second  way  in  which  a  transcendentalist  re- 
gards relations  as  involved  in  experience  differs  from 
that  just  discussed  in  several  important  particulars  ; 
for  whereas  in  that  the  explicit  consciousness  of  the 
relation  was  required  to  constitute  the  object,  in  this 
all  that  is  required  is  that  the  object  must  be  capable 
of  being  thought  under  the  relation.  It  is  plainly 
incorrect  to  describe  the  relation  in  this  last  case  as 

*  constituting  the  object ' ;  it  cannot  even  be  said 
that  the  capability  of  being  thought  under  the  re- 
lation necessarily  constitutes  it ;  for,  according  to  the 
transcendentalist,  '  esse '  is  equivalent  to  '  intelligi ' — 
that  is,  an  object  is,  as  it  is  apprehended  by  a 
thinking  being,  and  since  a  thinking  being  can,  as  is 
admitted,  apprehend  it  without  in  all  cases  perceiv- 
ing the  capability,  this  cannot  be  required  to  render 
the  object  real.  As  far  then  as  this  second  class  of  re- 
lations is  concerned,  the  transcendentalisms  argument 
seems  involved  in  something  like  fatal  inconsistency. 
Because  he  finds  himself,  in  bringing  an  object  into 

*  clear  consciousness,'  unable  to  make  abstraction  of 
a  certain  relation,  he  elevates  this  incapacity  into 
a  universal  and  necessary  characteristic  of  objects  ; 
while  at  the  same  time  admitting  that  other  intelli- 
gences and  his  own  intelligence  at  other  times  have 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  107 

actually  had  objects  presented  to  them  without  this 
characteristic. 

Enough  has  perhaps  been  said  about  this  general 
objection  (if  It  be  an  objection)  to  the  transcendental 
method,  and  it  is  now  time  to  follow  the  philosophers 
who  employ  it,  in  their  special  endeavours  to  show 
that  when  the  nature  of  experience  Is  once  brought 
to  the  '  clear  consciousness '  of  the  reader,  he,  at  any 
rate,  can  be  in  no  further  doubt  as  to  the  necessity 
of  regarding  objects  in  space  as  persistent  and  inde- 
pendent, and  all  objects  whatever  as  subject  to  the 
law  of  universal  causation. 

Kant's  refutation  of  Idealism  was  only  introduced 
into  the  second  edition  of  the  *  Critique,'  and  was  the 
main  occasion  of  Schopenhauer's  assertion  that  Kant 
had  changed  his  view  between  the  first  edition  of 
that  work  and  the  second,  respecting  the  external 
world.  I  understand,  however,  that  this  is  not 
admitted  by  his  later  critics  ;  that  they  regard  the 
'  Refutation '  as  satisfactory  In  itself,  and  as  har- 
monising with  the  general  course  of  Its  author's 
speculations  ;  and  that  the  proof  of  realism  con- 
tained in  It  Is  the  one  on  which  they  would  be 
disposed  to  rely.  As  such,  therefore,  I  am  forced 
to  criticise  It. 

I  say  *  forced,'  because  It  is  somewhat  unwillingly 
that  I  go  to  Kant  direct  for  the  statement  of  an 
argument,  partly  because  there  is  never  any  security 
that  his  disciples  will  admit  that  his  reasoning  in  any 


io8    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

particular  case  is  in  consonance  with  the  rest  of  his 
system  ;  partly  because  his  obscurity  is  so  great  that 
his  critics  are  as  likely  to  be  attacked  for  not  under- 
standing his  arguments  as  for  not  having  answered 
them,  a  proceeding  by  which  what  was  intended  to 
be  a  philosophic  discussion  is  suddenly  converted 
into  a  historical  one.  Yet  the  defects  of  his  expo- 
sition are  so  great  that  no  care  will  really  avert  this 
danger ;  for  he  has  contrived  to  state  a  theory — of 
great  difficulty  in  itself,  and  of  which  his  own  grasp 
does  not  appear  to  have  been  at  all  times  perfectly 
sure — in  language  which  always  seems  to  be  strug- 
gling to  express  a  meaning  which  it  can  never  get 
quite  clear,  and  which  possesses  in  an  astonishing 
degree  the  peculiarity  of  being  technical  without 
being  precise. 

As,  however,  I  am  not  acquainted  with  any  neo- 
Kantian  statement  of  the  transcendental  argument 
on  this  subject,  it  is  to  Kant  himself  that  I  must 
appeal ;  and,  fortunately,  the  formal  refutation  of 
Idealism  which  he  has  advanced  is  so  short  (apart 
from  the  elucidatory  notes)  that  I  can  quote  it  entire. 
It  runs  as  follows  : — ^ 

Theorem. 
*  The  simple  but  empirically  determined  conscious- 
ness of  my  own  existence  proves  the  existence  of  ex- 
ternal objects  in  space' 

1  The  translation  here  referred  to  is  Mr.  Meiklejohn's. 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  109 


Proof. 

'  I  am  conscious  of  my  own  existence  as  deter-  ^• 
mined  in  time.  All  determinations  in  regard  to  time 
pre-suppose  the  existence  of  something  permanent  in 
perception.  But  this  permanent  something  cannot 
be  something  in  me,  for  the  very  reason  that  my  ex- 
istence in  time  is  itself  determined  by  this  permanent 
something.  It  follows  that  the  perception  of  this 
permanent  existence  is  possible  only  through  a  thing 
without  me,  and  not  through  the  mere  representation 
of  a  thing  without  me.  Consequently,  the  deter- 
mination of  my  existence  in  time  is  possible  only 
through  the  existence  of  real  things  external  to  me. 
Now,  consciousness  in  time  is  necessarily  connected 
with  the  consciousness  of  the  possibility  of  this  de- 
termination in  time.  Hence  it  follows  that  conscious- 
ness in  time  is  necessarily  connected  also  with  the 
existence  of  things  without  me,  inasmuch  as  the 
existence  of  these  things  is  the  condition  of  deter- 
mination in  time.  That  is  to  say,  the  consciousness 
of  my  own  existence  is  at  the  same  time  an  imme- 
diate consciousness  of  the  existence  of  other  things 
without  me.'  ^ 

This  proof,  it  will  be  observed,  is  transcendental, 
i.e.,  its  method  of  procedure  is  to  show  that  an  ex- 
perience which  we  certainly  have  [that,  namely,  of 

^  Critique  J  tr.  p.  167. 


no    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

the  series  of  our  mental  states  as  they  occur  in  time] 
is  impossible,  unless  the  thing  to  be  proved  [which  is 
stated  (though,  as  we  shall  see,  inadequately  stated) 
to  be  the  existence  of  external  objects  in  space]  be  ad- 
mitted- And  the  demonstration  consists  of  two  steps. 
First,  it  is  asserted  that  the  experience  of  a  succes- 
sion of  things  in  time  is  impossible  except  in  relation 
to  something  permanent,  or  in  other  words,  that  the 
perception  of  change  is  inconceivable,  unless  we  at 
the  same  time  perceive  something  which  does  not 
change.  And  in  the  second  place,  Kant  goes  on 
to  .say,  that  since  that  which  changes  in  this  case 
is  myself  (my  phenomenal  self),  since  the  *  things  ' 
iwhich  succeed  each  other  in  time  are  my  own 
Imental  states,  the  unchanging  object  to  which  they 
are  referred  must  be  outside  myself ;  that  is,  must 
be  the  external  object  whose  existence  was  to  be 
proved.  So  that  if  we  immediately  perceive  the 
one,  it  can  only  be  on  condition  that  we  immediately 
perceive  the  other  also. 

Such  is  the  formal  answer  which  Kant  has  given 
to  Idealism  ;  but  it  is  not  in  this  way  only  that  he 
has  treated  the  question,  since  in  his  proof  of  the 
*  principle  of  substance '  [which  precedes  the  '  refu- 
tation' in  the  'Critique,']  he  has  brought  forward 
arguments  which,  if  sound,  would  seem  to  render 
any  further  '  refutation '  superfluous.  For,  the  *  First 
Analogy  of  Experience'  asserts  this,  'That  in  all 
changes  of  phenomena  substance  is  permanent ;  and 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  m 

the  quantum  thereof  in  nature  is  neither  increased 
nor  diminished.'  ^  And  as  by  substance  Kant  means 
something  which,  if  it  is  not  (as  I  think  it  is)  exactly- 
equivalent  to  what  is  commonly  called  matter,  is  at 
any  rate  the  genus  of  which  matter  is  one  species  ; 
clearly  this  proposition  is  absolutely  inconsistent 
with  Idealism  in  the  sense  in  which  I  use  the 
term.  If  matter  is  to  be  thought  of  as  permanent 
and  indestructible,  we  are  clearly  under  the  neces- 
sity of  thinking  that  there  is  in  nature  something  be- 
sides the  fleeting  succession  of  our  conscious  states. 

The  proof  of  this  Principle  of  Substance,  which 
I  give  partly  in  Kant's  words,  partly  in  Professor 
Caird's,  and  partly  in  my  own,  runs  somewhat  in 
this  way  : — *  All  phenomena  exist  in  time.  Change  is 
only  conceivable  in  an  unchanging  time.  But  this 
time  is  not,  and  cannot  be,  itself  an  object  of  percep- 
tion, but  is  rather  a  form  given  to  the  relations  of 
perception  which  supposes  that  they  are  otherwise 
related.  They  must  be  otherwise  related  as  deter- 
minations of  a  permanent  substance.  As  all  times 
are  in  one  time,  so  all  changes  must  be  in  one  per- 
manent object.  The  conception  of  the  permanence 
of  the  object  is  implied  in  all  determinations  of  its 
changes.  Change  involves  that  one  mode  of  exist- 
ence follows  another  mode  of  existence  in  an  object 
recognised  as  the  same.  Therefore  a  thing  which 
changes,  changes  only  in  its  states  or  accidents,  not 

^  Critique,  p.  136. 


112 


A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 


in  its  substance.  An  experience  of  absolute  anni- 
hilation or  creation  is  impossible,  for  it  would  be  an 
experience  of  two  events  so  absolutely  separated 
from  each  other  that  they  could  not  even  be  referred 
to  one  time.'  The  *  First  Analogy,'  therefore,  is  a 
deduction  from  the  possibility  of  experience,  and-^ 
requires  no  empirical  proof.  When  a  philosopher 
was  asked,  '  What  is  the  weight  of  smoke  ? '  he 
answered,  'Subtract  from  the  weight  of  the  burnt 
wood  the  weight  of  the  remaining  ashes,  and  you 
will  have  the  weight  of  the  smoke.'  Thus,  he  pre- 
sumed it  to  be  incontrovertible  that  even  in  fire  the 
matter  (substance)  does  not  perish,  but  only  the  form 
of  it  undergoes  a  change.^ ' 

The  reader  will  at  once  perceive  that  .while  there 
is  much  that  is  common  to  the  *  Refutation '  and  the 
*  First  Analogy,'  there  are  some  arguments  and  doc- 
trines peculiar  to  each,  a  fact  which  makes  the  satis- 
factory discussion  of  the  question  rather  difficult  ; 
because,  while  it  is  impossible  to  treat  the  two 
arguments  as  identical,  it  is  somewhat  clumsy  and 
would  lead  to  a  good  deal  of  repetition  to  consider 
them  altogether  separately. 

The  most  convenient  course,  perhaps,  will  be 
first  to  consider  the  points  which  are  to  be  found  in 
both,  and  then  to  proceed  with  the  examination  of 
their  mutual  relationship  and  with  what  is  special  to 
each  of  them. 

»  Cf.  Kant,  Critique^  p.  136  ;  Caird,  p.  453. 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  113 

The  first  difficulty,  then,  which  occurs  to  me, 
and  which,  perhaps,  others  may  feel,  refers  to  that 
*  transcendental  necessity '  which  is  the  very  pith 
and  marrow  of  the  whole  demonstration,  both  in  the 
'  Refutation  '  and  in  the  *  First  Analogy.'  Is  it  really 
true  that  change  is  *  nothing  to  us  as  thinking  beings  * 
except  we  conceive  it  in  relation  to  a  permanent  and 
unchanging  substance  ?  For  my  part,  however  much 
I  try  to  bring  the  matter  into  '  clear  consciousness,' 
I  feel  myself  bound  by  no  such  necessity.  For 
though  change  may  perhaps  be  unthinkable,  except 
for  what  Professor  Green  calls  a  *  combining,'  and, 
therefore,  to  a  certain  extent  a  *  persisting  conscious- 
ness,' and  though  it  may  have  no  meaning  out  of 
relation  to  that  which  is  '  not-change,'  this  ^  not- 
change '  by  no  means  implies  permanent  substance. 
On  the  contrary,  the  smallest  recognisable  persis- 
tence through  time  would  seem  enough  to  make 
change  in  time  intelligible  by  contrast ;  and  I  cannot 
help  thinking  that  the  opposite  opinion  derives  its 
chief  plausibility  from  the  fact  that  in  ordinary 
language  permanence  is  the  antithesis  to  change  ; 
whence  it  is  rashly  assumed  that  they  are  correla- 
tives which  imply  each  other  in  the  system  of 
nature.  It  has  to  be  noted  also,  that  Kant,  in  his 
proof  of  the  analogy,  makes  a  remark  (quoted  and 
approved  by  Professor  Caird)  which  almost  seems 
to  concede  this  very  point,  for  he  says,  *  Only  the 
permanent  is  subject  to  change  :  the  mutable  suffers 

I 


114    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 


no  change,  but  rather  alternation  ;  that  is,  when 
certain  determinations  cease,  others  begin.'  ^  Now 
there  can  be  no  objection,  of  course,  from  a  philo- 
sophical point  of  view,  to  an  author  defining  a  word 
in  any  sense  he  pleases  :  what  is  not  permissible  is 
to  make  such  a  definition  the  basis  of  an  argument 
to  matters  of  fact ;  yet  the  above  passage  suggests 
the  idea  that  Kant's  proof  of  the  permanence  of 
substance  is  not  altogether  free  from  this  vice.  If 
(by  definition)  change  can  only  occur  in  the  perma- 
nent, the  fact  that  there  is  change  is  no  doubt  a 
conclusive  proof  that  there  is  a  '  permanent.'  But\ 
the  question  then  arises,  is  there  change  in  this 
sense  ?  How  do  we  know  that  there  is  anything 
more  than  alternation  which  (by  definition)  can  take 
place  in  the  mutable  ?  All  transcendental  arguments 
convince  by  threats.  *  Allow  my  conclusion,'  they 
say,  '  or  I  will  prove  to  you  that  you  must  surrender 
one  of  your  own  cherished  beliefs.'  But  in  this  case 
the  threat  is  hardly  calculated  to  frighten  the  most 
timid  philosopher.  There  must  be  a  permanent,  say 
the  transcendentalistS;  or  there  can  be  no  change  ; 
but  this  surely  is  no  very  serious  calamity,  if  we  are 
allowed  to  keep  alternation,  which  seems  to  me,  I 
confess,  a  very  good  substitute,  and  one  with  Avhich 
the  ordinary  man  may  very  well  content  himself. 

To  those  who  agree  with  the  preceding  account 
of  our  intellectual  necessities,  who  can  either  conceive 

^  Critiqjie,  p.  140. 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  115 

change  without  permanence,  or  are  content  to  get 
along  with  the  help  of  '  alternation,'  it  will  seem  ab- 
solutely fatal  to  the  whole  Kantian  argument,  both 
in  the  '  First  Analogy '  and  the  '  Refutation/  To 
those  who  do  not  agree,  it  will  only  be  a  difficulty  in 
so  far  as  the  existence  of  any  mind  unconscious  of 
transcendental  necessities  is  inconsistent  with  the 
transcendental  theory,- — a  point  I  have  already  dis- 
cussed. But  let  us  pass  over  this,  and  grant,  for  the 
sake  of  argument,  that  change  in  general,  or  the 
succession  of  our  mental  states  in  particular,  can 
only  be  perceived  in  relation  to  a  permanent  some- 
thing ;  then  I  ask  (and  this  is  the  next  most  obvious 
objection)  why,  in  order  to  obtain  this  permanent 
something,  should  we  go  to  external  matter  ?  As 
the  reader  is  aware,  the  '  pure  eg-o  of  apperception  * 
supplies,  on  the  Kantian  system,  the  unity  in  refe- 
rence to  which  alone  the  unorganised  multiplicity  of 
perception  becomes  a  possible  experience ;  and  it 
seems  hard  to  understand  why  that  which  supplies 
unity  to  multiplicity  may  not  also  supply  permanence 
to  succession.  Kant  has,  indeed,  anticipated  this 
objection,  and  replied  to  it ;  but  as  I  understand  the 
objection  much  better  than  I  do  the  reply,  I  will 
content  myself  with  giving  the  latter,  without  para- 
phrase, in  Kant's  own  words  :  '  We  find,'  he  says, 
'  that  we  possess  nothing  permanent  that  can  corre- 
spond and  be  submitted  to  the  conception  of  a 
substance    as    intuition,   except   matter.    ,    .    ,    .    In 

I  2 


ii6     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

the  representation  /,  the  consciousness  of  myself,  is 
not  an  intuition,  but  a  merely  intellectual  represen- 
tation produced  by  the  spontaneous  activity  of  a 
thinking  subject.  It  follows,  that  this  /  has  not  any 
predicate  of  intuition,  which,  in  Its  character  of  per- 
manence, could  serve  as  correlate  to  the  determi- 
nation of  time  In  the  internal  sense.  In  the  same  way 
as  impenetrability  Is  the  correlate  of  matter  as  an 
empirical  intuition.'  ^ 

Though  I  do  not  profess  altogether  to  understand 
this  reasoning,  it  is,  at  all  events,  clear  from  it,  that 
'  the  permanent '  whose  existence  Is  demonstrated 
must  be  an  object  of  perception  ;  a  fact  which  Is 
also  evident  from  various  passages  In  the  proof  of 
the  *  First  Analogy,'  as,  for  instance,  this  :  '  Time 
itself  cannot  be  an  object  of  perception.  It  follows 
that  in  objects  of  perception,  that  is  in  phenomena, 

there   must   be   found   a   substratum,'    &c.  ^     It    is 

i 

difficult  to  see  indeed  how  that  which  Is  a  quantity, 
incapable  of  either  increase  or  diminution,  can  be 
other  than  an  object  of  perception  :  it  cannot,  at  all 
events,  be  a  concept ;  and  we  may,  I  think,  assume 
from  the  whole  tenor  of  Kant's  argument,  as  well  as 
from  his  categorical  assertions,  that  the  substance  of 
which  he  speaks  is  a  phenomenal  ^Atng:  But  If  it 
be  perceived,  and  if  it  be  a  phenomenon,  where  is  It 
to  be  found  ?  In  the  perpetual  flux  of  nature,  where 
objects  do  indeed  persist  for  a  time,  but  where  (to  all 

'  Critique,  p.  i68.  3  Critique,  p.  137. 


CHAP,  vl]  transcendentalism.  T17 

appearance)  nothing  is  eternal,  who  has  had  expe- 
rience of  this  unchanging  existence  ?    By  a  dialectical 
process,  probably  familiar  to  the  reader,  we  may  with 
much  plausibility  reduce   what  we   perceive    in  an 
object  to  a  collection  of  related  attributes,  not  one  of 
which  is  the  object  itself,  but  all  of  which  are  the 
changing  attributes  or  accidents  of  the  object.     But 
if  this  process  be  legitimate,   the   '  substratum  '   of 
these  accidents  is  either  never  perceived  at  all,  or, 
at  all  events,  is  only  known  as  a  relation.    In  neither 
case  can  it  be  the  permanent  of  which  Kant  speaks, 
since  in  the  first  case  it  is  not  an  object  of  immediate 
perception  ;  in  the  second  it  can  hardly  be  regarded 
as  an  object  at  all.    '  But  (it  may  perhaps  be  replied), 
by  a  remarkable  coincidence,  science  has  established 
by  a  wide  induction  the  very  truth  which  Kant  at- 
tempts to  prove  a  priori.     When  men  of  science  tell 
us  that  matter  is  indestructible,  it  is  to  be  presumed 
that  they  attach  some  meaning  to  the  phrase,  and 
are  referring  neither  to  a  metaphysical  substance  nor 
to  an  evanescent  appearance.     When  Kant  uses  the 
same  phrase,  it  may  be  supposed  that  he  refers  to 
the  same  object.'     For  my  own  part,  I  confess  to  a 
rooted    distrust   of    these    remarkable    coincidences 
between    the    results    of  scientific    experiment    and 
a  priori  speculation  ;  nor  does  a  closer  examination 
of  this  particular  case  tend  to  allay  the  feeling.      It 
is  true,  no  doubt,  that  science  asserts  matter  to  be 
indestructible  ;  but  what  is  the  exact  meaning  of  the 


ii8    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

phrase,  and  what  is  its  evidence  ?  Can  we  perceive 
any  thread  of  identity  running  through  all  the  various 
changes  which  (what  we  describe  as)  one  substance 
may  undergo  ?  To  a  certain  extent  science  assures 
us  that  we  can.  There  are  two,  though,  so  far  as  I 
know,  only  two  attributes  of  matter,  namely,  its  rela- 
tion to  a  moving  force  and  its  power  of  attracting 
and  being  attracted  by  other  matter,  which  never 
alter  ;  or,  to  put  it  more  strictly,  if  we  take  a  certain 
*  area  of  observation '  (say  a  closed  vessel)  out  of 
which  matter  cannot  pass  and  into  which  it  cannot 
enter,  then,  whatever  changes  occur  within  this,  the 
matter  there,  whether  always  the  same  or  not,  never 
varies  in  respect  of  these  two  properties. 

But  it  has  to  be  observed,  that  though  we  can 
directly  perceive  both  velocity  and  weight,  the  fact 
that  there  are  unchanging  relations  between  a  given 
portion  of  matter  and  a  given  force,  or  between  two 
portions  of  given  matter,  can  only  be  established 
by  an  elaborate  process  of  inference  involving  a 
large  number  of  assumptions.  It  might,  therefore, 
be  plausibly  contended  that  though  they  are  per- 
ceived, \ki€\x  permanence  is  not,  so  that  they  cannot 
properly  be  said  to  form  any  permanent  element  in 
perception.  Passing  over  this  possible  objection, 
however,  and,  granting  for  the  sake  of  argument, 
that  we  directly  perceive  the  permanence  of  these 
two  properties  of  matter,  it  is  still  clear,  that  since 
these  are  the  only  two  properties  of  which  we  can 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  119 

say  as  much,  either  they  must  constitute  matter,  or 
matter,  in  so  far  as  it  is  permanent,  cannot  be  an 
object  of  perception.  The  first  alternation  is  in- 
admissible, because  these  properties  are  merely 
relations  between  certain  portions  of  matter  and 
something  else.  The  second  would  seem  to  be 
inconsistent  with  the  Kantian  proof. 

The  reader  will  understand  that  I  am  not  here 
contending  that  Kant's  conclusion  is  inconsistent 
with  science,  or  that  the  scientific  inference  is  wrong, 
either  in  its  method  or  its  results.  My  point  is 
rather  this  : — Though  Kant  does  not,  of  course, 
conclude  to  the  necessary  permanence  of  matter 
merely  from  its  permanence  in  perception,  never- 
theless its  permanence  in  perception  would  seem 
to  be  involved  in  his  proof.  Now  I  assert  that 
what  we  perceive,  in  so  far  as  it  is  perceived,  is 
either  not  matter  or  is  not  permanent ;  and  I  main- 
tain that  an  examination  of  that  part  of  the  ordinary 
scientific  or  empirical  proof  which  bears  on  the 
question  really  confirms  this  view. 

It  may  perhaps  be  thought  (and  some  of  Kant's 
expressions  countenance  the  view)  that  he  means  to 
say  no  more  than  that  we  perceive  the  permanent 
substance  by  means  of  certain  of  its  accidents.  But 
this  seems  to  raise  new  difficulties.  First,  how  is 
the  phenomenal  substance  thus  mediately  known,  to 
be  distinguished  from  the  z^^//;;^^;/^/ substance  which, 
if  it  be  known  at  all,  is  known  precisely  in  the  same 


I20    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 


way  ?  Why  should  we  suppose  it  to  be  in  time 
or  space  ?  Why  should  we  suppose  it  to  be  a 
quantity  ?  And  how,  finally,  can  we  say  with  any 
meaning,  that  such  a  substance  is  phenomenal  at 
all  ?  To  put  the  matter  in  one  sentence — when 
Kant  says  that  *  all  determination  in  regard  to  time  / 
presupposes  the  existence  of  something  permanent 
in  perception,'  if  his  assertion  is  to  be  taken  literally, 
it  is  in  contradiction  with  experience,  for  there  is 
nothing  permanent  in  perception,  unless  we  choose 
to  describe  the  relations  of  matter  to  force  and  other 
gravitating  matter  in  that  way  :  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  means  that  what  we  perceive  indicates  the 
existence  of  something  permanent,  he  has  first  got 
to  prove  the  fact,  and  has  then  got  to  show  that  the 
permanent  whose  reality  is  thus  established  is 
identical  with  the  external  world  of  science  and 
common  sense  ;  and  lastly,  to  point  out  how  we  can 
be  said  to  be  '  immediately  conscious'  ^  of  that  which 
we  only  know  through,  and  by  means  of,  its 
attributes. 

Such,  then,  are  the  chief  objections  which,  as  I 
think,  apply  with  equal  force  to  the  '  First  Analogy' 
and  the  '  Refutation.'  Before  going  on  to  explain 
any  difficulties,  which  are  special  to  either,  let  me 
point  out  a  curious  consequence  which  may  be  ex- 
tracted from  the  two  demonstrations  considered 
together. 

^  Critiqtie^  p.  167. 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM;  X2t 

Kant's  argument  in  the  '  Refutation  '  consisted, 
it  will  be  recollected)  in  showing  that  we  could  have 
no  experience  of  our  own  changing  mental  states 
unless  we  perceived  some  permanent  object  outside  us ; 
while  in  the  '  First  Analogy,'  his  argument  involved 
the  assertion  that  all  changes  are  but  the  determina- 
tions of  some  permanent  substance,  which  itself  never 
changes.  According  to  the  '  First  Analogy,'  there- 
fore, our  changing  mental  states,  like  all  other 
changes,  must  be  determinations,  or,  as  they  are 
usually  called,  accidents,  of  a  permanent  substance  ; 
while,  according  to  the  *  Refutation,'  this  permanent 
substance  must  be  an  object  of  perception  indepen- 
dent of  us  and  outside  us  in  space — in  other  words, 
matter.  Between  them  these  two  propositions 
would  seem  to  furnish  a  complete  transcendental 
proof  that  our  conscious  states  must  be  thought  as 
mere  accidents  of  a  material  substance  ;  so  that  the 
crude  materialism  of  certain  modern  physiologists, 
far  from  being  the  rash  conclusion  of  an  unphilosophic 
empiricism,  is    demonstrable  a  priori  by  approved 

critical  methods  ! 

y 

The  only  further  remark  I  have  to  make  on  the 
'  First  Analogy '  is  of  the  nature,  perhaps,  of  a  verbal 
criticism.  Kant  speaks  throughout  of  matter  as  if  it 
were  a  definite  quantity  in  nature,  a  quantity  which 
could  neither  be  increased  nor  diminished.  But 
this  would  seem  to  be  inconsistent  with  his  theory 
that  a  vacuum   is  impossible,  because  if  matter  is 


122     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

wherever  space  is,  it  must,  one  should  think,  be  not  A 
less  impossible  to  conceive  the  first  as  a  totality  than 
it  is  to  conceive  the  second  ;  and  the  words  '  in- 
crease '  and  *  diminution  '  must  be  altogether  mean-    / 
ingless    in    their   application   to   a   quantity  whose  / 
amount  is  necessarily  indefinite.     Kant's  expression,  / 
therefore,  is  a  somewhat  loose  one,  and  he  must  be| 
held  to  mean  simply  that  matter  exists,  and  that  no/ 
portion  of  it  can  be  created  or  destroyed.     I   may 
add,  that  in  his  discussion  of  a  vacuum  he  points  out 
that  matter  may  be  a  quantity  in  more  than  one 
way,  but  that  neither  in  the  *  First  Analogy  '  nor  the 
*  Refutation  '  does  he  explicitly  tell  us  in  which  way 
it  is  incapable  of  diminution.     It  would  be  interest- 
ing to  know  this,  in  order  that  his  results  might  be 
compared  with  the  results  at  which,  by  very  different 
methods,  men  of  science  have  arrived. 

My  concluding  criticism  refers  to  the  *  Refuta- 
tion,' and  I  must  ask  the  reader  to  turn  back  to  it, 
and  to  compare  the  thing  which  Kant  announces  his 
intention  of  proving  with  the  thing  he  professes  to 
have  proved.  In  the  *  Theorem,'  the  thing  to  be 
demonstrated  is  the  existence  of  external  objects 
in  space ;  in  the  *  Proof,'  the  thing  actually  demon- 
strated is  the  existence  of  '  real  things  external  to  me' 
— that  is,  things  which  are  not  themselves  something 
in  me,  though  of  course  their  representations  are  so, 
'  without  me '  being  evidently  equivalent  to  '  other 
than  my  conscious  states,  as  determined   in  time.' 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  123 

Now  if  these  two  expressions  really  meant  the  same 
thing,  any  further  refutation  of  Idealism  would  be 
perfectly  superfluous.  No  human  being  that  under- 
stood the  meaning  of  his  own  words  would  for  a 
moment  deny  that  there  were  objects  in  space,  and 
therefore  without  him  in  the  sense  of  being  outside 
his  body.  The  real  question  is  this- — Does  being 
in  space  and  outside  the  body  imply  that  the  ex- 
tended and  external  object  is  outside  the  mind,  and 
other  than  one  of  a  series  of  conscious  states  ?  The 
realist  asserts  that  it  does,  the  idealist  asserts  that  it 
does  not ;  and  to  assume,  as  Kant  appears  to  do, 
that  the  one  proposition  is  very  much  the  same  as 
the  other  is,  in  reality,  to  beg  the  whole  question 
at  issue.  For  unless  Kant's  intention  is  merely 
to  demonstrate  the  existence  of  extended  objects, 
which  it  is  equally  unnecessary  and  impossible  to  do, 
it  must,  I  suppose,  be  to  show  that  their  existence 
is  independent  of  their  being  perceived — neither 
beginning  with  it  nor  perishing  with  it;  and  in  order 
to  do  this  he  must  prove,  from  his  point  of  view, 
two  things.  The  first  of  these  is,  that  the  con- 
sciousness of  one's  own  existence  in  time  is  only 
possible  on  the  supposition  that  something  per- 
manent exists  outside,  i.e.,  other  than,  one's  self;  the 
second  is,  that  this  permanent  and  independent 
thing  is  in  any  sense  identical  with  extended  matter. 
The  evidence  for  the  first  of  these  positions  I  have 
already  considered  ;  the  evidence  for  the  second  is 


124    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

nowhere  explicitly  stated  ;  but  I  cannot  help  suspect- 
ing (though  it  seems  scarcely  credible)  that  Kant 
omitted  to  provide  any,  though  a  temporary  lapse 
into  the  common  though  absurd  assumption  that 
'outside'  in  one  sense  is  equivalent  to,  or,  at 
all  events,  necessarily  implies,  '  outside  '  in  the  other.^ 
With  the  difficulty  which  most  philosophers  feel  in 
understanding  how  that  which  is  an  immediate 
object  of  perception  can  be  other  than  zn  co7iscious- 
ness,  a  difficulty  which  is  certainly  not  lessened  by 
the  Kantian  theory  of  space,  Kant  himself  makes 
no  attempt  to  deal.  I  turn  now  from  the  transcen- 
dental proof  of  an  external  world  to  the  transcen- 
dental proof  of  the  law  of  Causation. 

In  his  proof  of  the  law  of  Causation,  contained 
in  the  '  Second  Analogy  of  Experience,'  Kant,  if  I 
understand  him  rightly,  adopts  two  lines  of  argu- 
ment ;  the  one  on  which  he  appears  to  lay  most 
stress  being  consistent  neither  with  itself  nor  with 
the  other.  In  discussing  it  I  am  unfortunately 
deprived  of  the  assistance  of  Professor  Caird,  who, 
in  the  exercise  of  his  discretion  as  an  expositor  of 
the  Critical  Philosophy,  has  chosen  practically  to 
ignore  it.     I  will  not  venture  to  determine  whether 

^  I  do  not  of  course  suppose  that  Professor  Caird  and  the  Neo- 
Kanlians  are  guilty  of  the  confusion  of  thought  which  I  here  attribute 
to  Kant.  But  (as  I  explained  above)  since  they  appear  to  be  content 
with  the  argument  in  the  form  in  which  Kant  left  it  ;  since  at  all 
events  they  have  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  thought  fit  to  provide  a 
corrected  version  of  it,  I  am  not  only  justified,  but  compelled,  to 
treat  it  as  if  it  were  an  authentic  exposition  of  their  views. 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  125 

in  so  doing  he  has  or  has  not  somewhat  transgressed 
even  the  very  wide  Hmits  imposed   on  him   by  the 
plan  of  his  work ;  but  lest  the  reader  should  imagine 
that  the  absence  of  the  argument   I   am  about  to 
state  from  the  commentary,  implies  its  non-existence 
in    the   original,    I   will    ask    him    to    consult    the 
'  Critique,'  ^  and  see  whether  it  may  not  be  attri- 
buted to    Kant  with  as   much  plausibility  as  any  in 
the   whole    range    of   the    *  Critique.'       It    runs    as 
follows — I  give  it  partly  in  my  own  words,  partly  in 
Kant's,  though  the  italics  are  always  mine  : — '  Our 
apprehension    of    the    manifold   of    phenomena    is 
always  successive.'     But  sometimes  we  regard  this 
manifold  of   phenomena  as  constituting  an  object 
(say  a  house),  sometimes  as  a  series  of  events  (as 
when  a  ship  is  seen  to  float  down  a  river).     Subjec- 
tively, in  apprehension,  these  two  series  would  seem 
to  be  of  the  same'^kind  ;  objectively,  as  every  one 
knows,  we  widely  distinguish  them.     We  no  more 
suppose  that  the  upper  story  of  the  house,   if  we 
begin  looking  at  it  at  the  top,  is  a  phenomenon  pre- 
ceding in   time  the  ground  floor,  than  we  suppose 
the  ship  is  at  the  same  time  at  two  different  places 
on  the  river.     Yet  in  consciousness  we  perceive  the 
ground  floor  after  the   upper  story,  exactly  as  we 
perceive  the  ship  lower  down  the  river  after  we 
perceive   it   higher   up.      The   problem    then    that 
requires  solution  is  this  :  How  do  we  distinguish,  as 

1  Page  142  seq. 


126     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 


in  experience  we  certainly  do  distinguish,  the  first 
series  from  the    second  ?      And   Kant's  answer  is 
that  we  can  only  distinguish  them  if  we  regard  the 
order  of  the  first  series  as  arbitrary,  and  that  of  the 
second  as  subject  to  a  rule.     '  In  the  former  example 
my  perceptions  in  the  apprehension  of  the  house 
might  begin  at  the  roof  and   end  at  the  foundation, 
or  vice  versa ;  or  I  might  apprehend  the  manifold  in 
this  empirical  intuition  by  going  from   right  to  left 
or  from  left  to  right.     Accordingly,  in  the  series  of 
these   perceptions,  there  was   no   determined  order 
which  necessitated  my  beginning  at  a  certain  point 
in  order  empirically  to  connect  the   manifold.'     In 
the  second  case  the  order  is  objective  :  it  in  no  way 
depends  on  the  mode  in  which  we  choose  to  repre- 
sent it ;  and  this  can  only  be  if  we  suppose  that  it 
occurs  in  conformity  with  a  rule  or  law.     And  this 
becomes  at  once  apparent,  if  for  an  instant  we  try 
and  imagine  the  contrary  to  be  the  case.     '  Let  us 
suppose  that  nothing  precedes  an  event  upon  which 
this  event  must  follow   in  conformity  with  a  rule. 
All  sequence  of  perception  would  then  exist  only  in 
apprehension,  that  is  to  say,  would  be  merely  subjec- 
tive, and   it  could   not  thereby  be  objectively  deter- 
mined what  thing  ought  to  precede  and  what  ought 
to  follow  in  perception.      In  such  a  case  we  should 
have   nothing  but  a  play   of  representation,   which 
would  possess  no  application  to  any   object.     That 
is  to  say,  it  would  not  be  possible  through  perception 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  127 

to  distinguish  one  phenomenon  from  another,  as 
regards  relation  of  time  ;  because  the  succession  in 
the  act  of  apprehension  would  always  be  of  the  same 
sort,  and  therefore  there  would  be  nothing  in  the 
phenomenon  to  determine  the  succession,  and  to 
render  a  certain  sequence  objectively  necessary. 
And,  in  this  case,  I  cannot  say  that  two  states  in  a 
phenomenon  follow  one  upon  the  other,  but  only  Ihat 
one  apprehension  follows  upon  another.  But  this  is 
merely  subjective,  and  does  not  determine  an  object, 
and  consequently  cannot  be  held  to  be  a  cognition 
of  an  object — not  even  in  the  phenomenal  world. 
Accordingly,  when  we  know  in  experience  that 
something  happens,  we  always  suppose  that  some- 
thing precedes,  whereupon  it  follows  in  conformity 
with  a  rule.  For  otherwise  I  could  not  say  of  the 
object  that  it  follows  ;  because  the  mere  succession  in 
my  apprehension^  if  it  be  not  determined  by  a  rule  in 
relation  to  something  preceding,  does  not  authorise 
succession  in  the  object.  Only,  therefore,  in  reference 
to  a  rule,  according  to  which  phenomena  are  deter- 
mined in  their  sequence,  that  is,  as  they  happen, 
by  the  preceding  state,  can  I  make  my  subjective 
synthesis  of  apprehension  objective  ;  and  it  is  only 
under  this  presupposition  that  even  the  experience 
of  an  event  is  possible.' 

Starting  then  from  the  succession  in  apprehen- 
sion, or  the  subjective  succession  of  phenomena, 
Kant  had  to  distinguish  from  it— first,  the  objective 


128     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

coexistence  which  constitutes  a  thing  in  space — a 
house,  a  tree,  and  so  forth  ;  and  second,  the  objective 
seqtcence  which  constitutes  a  series  of  events.  As  I 
pointed  out  in  the  section  on  the  independent  world, 
he  does  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  furnish  any  principle 
of  objective  coexistence,  but  in  the  law  of  causation 
he  finds  the  principle  of  objective  sequence.  Or,  to 
put  it  in  a  transcendental  form,  he  holds  that  the 
experience  of  (objective)  events  is  only  possible  If 
we  presuppose  the  law  of  causation,  and  as  we  cer- 
tainly have  such  an  experience,  &c. 

Now,  regarded  as  a  proof  of  the  law  of  universal 
causation,  the  argument  I  have  just  stated  is  scarcely 
worth  criticising.  In  the  first  place.  Professor  Caird, 
after  Schopenhauer,  admits  that  the  conclusion  is 
inconsistent  with  one  of  the  premises.  If  it  can  be 
said  to  prove  that  sequence  in  the  object  is  '  accord- 
ing to  a  rule,'  It  is  only  by  showing  in  the  first 
instance  that  sequence  in  the  subject  is  arbitrary  ; 
so  that  the  causation  proved  is  at  all  events  not  uni- 
versal. But,  in  the  second  place,  it  does  not  prove, 
or  attempt  to  prove,  that  there  Is  actually  an  objec- 
tive sequence  according  to  a  necessary  rule,  but  only 
that  if  there  is  an  objective  sequence,  it  must  be 
according  to  a  necessary  rule,  because  otherwise 
it  could  not  be  distinguished  from  the  subjective 
sequence.  Now  these  are  very  different  propositions  ; 
and  the  second  or  conditional  one  might  be  admitted 
to  its  full  extent,  without  admitting  the  truth  of  the 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  129 

first  or  unconditional  one,  which  is  for  purposes  of 
science  the  proposition  for  which  proof  is  required. 

The  second  proof  which  Kant  gives  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  causality  is  so  hidden  away  in  the  recesses 
of  the  first,  that  some  doubt  might  perhaps  be  thrown 
on  whether  he  intended  formally  to  put  it  forward  as 
a  proof  at  all.  The  fact  that  it  is  in  direct  contradic- 
tion to  the  first  proof,  does  not  perhaps  go  far 
towards  helping  us  to  a  decision  on  this  point ;  but 
in  any  case  the  matter  is  not  of  much  importance,  as 
I  am  more  concerned  with  the  meaning  which  the 
post-Kantians  extract  from  his  writings,  than  with 
that  which  he  himself  intended  to  put  into  them. 

The  first  proof  attempted  to  show  that  the  expe- 
rience of  an  objective  sequence  was  only  possible 
if  it  was  distinguished  from  a  subjective  sequence 
by  being  according  to  a  rule.  The  second  proof  at- 
tempts to  show  that  no  sequence  can  be  experienced 
except  on  the  same  terms.  It  is  plain,  therefore,  that 
the  second  proof  aims  at  demonstrating  a  causation 
which  is  universal,  and  which  cannot,  therefore,  be 
reconciled  with  the  partial  causation  contemplated  by 
the  first.  It  only  remains  for  us  to  examine  whether 
it  is  more  satisfactory.  I  give  it  entire  in  Professor 
Caird's  words :  ^ — 

'  The  judgment  of  sequence  cannot  be  made 
without  the  presupposition  of  the  judgment  of  cau- 
sality.    For  time  is  a  mere  form  of  the  relation  of 

1  Phil,  of  Kant ^  pp.  454-5. 
K 


I30     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

things,  and  cannot  be  perceived  by  itself.  Only  when 
we  have  connected  events  with  each  other  can  we 
think  of  them  as  in  time.  And  the  connection  must 
be  such,  that  the  different  elements  of  the  manifold 
of  the  events  are  determined  in  relation  to  each  other, 
in  the  same  way  as  the  different  moments  in  time  are 
determined  in  relation  to  each  other.  But  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  moments  of  time  are  so  determined 
in  relation  to  each  other  that  we  can  only  put  them 
into  one  order — i.e.,  that  we  can  proceed  from  the 
previous  to  the  subsequent  moment,  but  not  vice 
versa.  Now,  if  objects  or  events  cannot  be  dated  in 
relation  to  time,  but  only  in  relation  to  each  other,  it 
follows  that  they  cannot  be  represented  as  in  time  at 
all,  unless  they  have  an  irreversible  order ;  or,  in  other 
words,  unless  they  are  so  related  according  to  a 
universal  rule,  when  one  thing  is  posited  something 
else  must  necessarily  be  posited  in  consequence.  In 
every  representation  of  events  as  in  time,  this  pre^ 
supposition  is  implied  ;  and  the  denial  of  causality 
necessarily  involves  the  denial  of  all  succession  in 
time.' 

It  appears  to  be  asserted  in  this  proof  that  we 
cannot  conceive  succession,  unless  we  suppose  that 
there  is  a  necessary  order  in  phenomena  to  enable 
them,  so  to  speak,  to  correspond  with  and  fit  into  the 
necessary  order  in  the  moments  of  time.  '  Events 
are  determined  in  relation  to  each  other  in  the  same 
\i.e.,  I  suppose,  some  corresponding]  way,  as  different 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  131 

moments  are  determined  in  relation  to  each  other.' 
But  in  so  far  as  I  can  attach  any  definite  meaning 
to  these  words  at  all,  they  seem  to  distinguish  two 
things  which  are  really  the  same,  and  to  confound 
two  things  which  are  really  distinct.  The  '  order '  of 
events  and  the  *  order '  of  moments  are  not  two  kinds 
of  order,  but  one  kind  ;  and  if  we  assert  that  two 
events  succeed  each  other,  we  are  describing  precisely 
the  same  relationship  between  them  as  when  we 
assert  that  two  moments  succeed  each  other.  When, 
on  the  other  hand,  we  assert  that  one  event  is  the 
cause  of  another,  we  assert  not  only  this  actual  suc- 
cession, but  also,  by  implication,  a  similar  succession 
whenever  an  event  resembling  the  cause  or  first  term 
in  the  relationship  may  happen  to  occur.  But  this 
relationship  is  so  far  independent  of  time,  that  though 
it  must  occur  in  some  time,  it  may  occur  in  any  time, 
and  it  in  no  way  corresponds  with  the  relation  be- 
tween actual  successive  events  or  successive  moments 
which  can  never  be  repeated,  because  the  related 
terms  can  never  recur.  Event  A  and  moment  a  are 
followed  by  event  B  and  moment  b.  This  happens 
once  actually  and,  if  you  please,  necessarily  ;  but  it 
never  happens  again.  The  events  vanish  into  the 
past  as  certainly  as  the  moments  in  which  they  occur, 
and  they  can  as  little  be  recalled.  But  all  this  has 
nothing  to  do  with  causation.  What  the  principle  of 
causation,  strictly  speaking,  asserts  is,  not  that  if 
event  A  recurs  it  will  be  followed  by  event  B,  for 

K    2 


132     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

event  A  cannot  possibly  recur ;  but  that  If  an  event 
similar  to  A  recurs,  an  event  similar  to  B  will  cer- 
tainly follow  :  and  how  this  second  hypothetical  as- 
sertion is  involved  in  the  categorical  assertion  of  a 
simple  historical  succession  between  actual  concrete 
events  and  moments,  altogether  passes  my  under- 
standing. 

The  transcendental  view  appears  to  be,  that  be- 
cause there  is  a  necessary  order  between  successive 
moments,  therefore  there  must  be  a  necessary  order 
between  successive  events  ;  and  this  desired  neces- 
sity can  only  be  found  in  the  principle  of  causation. 
But  if  there  was  no  causality  at  all,  the  order  of  events 
would  still  be  just  as  much  or  just  as  little  necessary 
as  the  order  of  moments.  An  event  is  what  it  is 
because  it  happens  when  it  does.  A  moment  is  what 
it  is  because  it  occurs  when  it  does.  Neither  the  one 
nor  the  other  could  occur  at  any  other  time,  simply 
because  by  so  doing  it  would  cease  to  be  itself  It  is 
true  of  course  (and  this  is  no  doubt  the  cause  of  all 
the  confusion)  that  we  habitually  talk  of  the  same 
event  as  occurring  at  different  times,  while  we  make 
no  such  assertion  respecting  particular  moments. 
But  this  is  simply  because  the  whole  essence  of  a 
moment  consists  in  the  time  at  which  it'  occurs, 
whereas  it  is  commonly  the  case  that  this  is  the  least 
interesting  of  all  the  relations  which  constitute  an 
event,  and  the  one  of  which  it  is  therefore  most  often 
convenient  to  make  abstraction.     Nor  is  it  to  the 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  133 

purpose  to  say  that  events  cannot  be  dated  in  rela- 
tion to  time,  but  only  in  relation  to  other  events  ; 
because  in  every  sense  in  which  this  can  be  asserted 
of  particular  events,  it  can  likewise  be  asserted  of 
particular  moments.  If,  therefore,  this  fact  neces- 
sitates causation  in  the  one  case  (which,  however,  I 
deny),  it  must  necessitate  it  also  in  the  other — which 
is  absurd. 

Other  objections  besides  these  might  no  doubt  be 
taken  against  particular  points  in  the  transcendental 
proof,  but  the  best  refutation  of  it  is  to  be  found  in 
its  own  version  of  its  general  nature  and  object. 
That  object  is  simply  to  show  that  a  clear  idea  of 
succession  is  impossible,  except  to  those  who  first 
regard  phenomena  as  necessarily  connected  according 
to  the  principle  of  causation  ;  which,  again,  is  as 
much  as  to  say  that  by  far  the  larger  part  of  mankind 
have  no  clear  idea  of  succession  at  all.  And  when  I 
say  the  larger  part  of  mankind,  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  in  that  majority  are  included  not  only  all 
those  who  do  not  believe  in  the  universality  of  cau- 
sation, but  also  almost  all  those  who  do ;  since  I  will 
make  bold  to  say  that  the  greater  number  of  these, 
however  much  they  turn  their  minds  to  the  nature  of 
succession  in  time,  do  not  find  involved  therein  the 
principle  of  cause  and  effect.  This  necessity,  then, 
under  which  the  transcendentalists  labour,  if  it  is 
to  be  of  '  objective '  application,  and  is  to  have  any 
philosophic  value  at  all,  requires  us  to  believe  that 


134    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

mankind  has  been,  and  is,  suffering  under  a  very 
singular  illusion  respecting  the  clearness  of  its  own 
ideas,  on  a  point  which  is  commonly  thought  to  be  so 
simple  as  to  defy  further  analysis.  This  by  itself  is 
sufficiently  hard  to  believe  ;  and  the  difficulty  does 
not  diminish  when  we  come  to  examine  the  matter 
more  closely.  For  what  does  the  supposed  necessity 
oblige  us  to  hold  ?  That  when  we  perceive  two 
events  in  succession,  the  first  is  the  cause  of  the 
second  ?  Not  at  all.  But  that  when  we  perceive 
two  events  in  succession,  there  exists  somewhere  a 
cause  for  the  second — a  cause  possibly  (indeed,  pro- 
bably) of  which  we  are,  and  shall  remain  for  ever, 
ignorant !  So  that  what  the  transcendental  doctrine 
comes  to  is  this,  that  we  can  have,  and  do  have,  an 
idea  of  succession  which  is  not  causal,  but  that  we 
cannot  have  such  idea,  at  least  in  '  clear  conscious- 
ness,' which  does  not  involve  the  idea  of  some  other 
succession  which  is  indeed  causal,  but  one  element 
of  which  is,  or  may  be,  quite  unknown  to  us ! 

On  the  whole,  then,  I  cannot  agree  with  Herr 
Kuno  Fischer  that  Kant's  'giant  strength  '^  has  been 
very  happily  employed  in  this  attempt  to  place  the 
doctrine  of  causation  beyond  the  reach  of  sceptical 
attack ;  on  the  contrary,  it  seems  to  me  that  all  the 
difficulties  inherent  in  the  transcendental  method,  and 
all  the  confusion  and  obscurity  which  are  so  often 
to  be  met  with  in  Kant's  use  of  that  method,  are 

^  Fischer's  Kant,  p.  i  rS. 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  135 

strikingly  exhibited  in  his  treatment  of  this  central 
and  important  principle.  It  is  commonly  asserted 
that  it  was  Hume's  theory  (that  our  expectation  or 
belief  in  the  uniformity  of  Nature  is  the  result  of 
habit)  which  suggested  to  Kant  the  necessity  of 
finding  some  more  solid  basis  on  which  to  rest  our 
systematic  knowledge  of  phenomena.  If  so,  it  is 
unfortunate  that  it  should  be  precisely  at  this  point 
that  the  ingenious  and  important  method  of  proof, 
which  it  is  his  chief  glory  to  have  invented,  most 
obviously  and  completely  breaks  down. 

I  have  only  to  point  out,  in  conclusion,  that  had 
the  transcendental  demonstration  been  as  sound  in  all 
its  parts  as  Herr  Kuno  Fischer  and  Professor  Caird 
suppose  it  to  be,  the  thing  proved  is  not  sufficient 
by  itself  to  serve  as  a  basis  for  scientific  induction. 

All  that  Kant  can  be  said,  on  the  most  favourable 
view  of  his  reasoning,  to  have  established  is  that, 
to  use  his  own  words,  'the  phenomena  in  the  past 
determine  all  the  phenomena  in  succeeding  time ' ; 
or,  as  Professor  Caird  phrases  it,  'the  subsequent 
state  of  the  world  is  the  effect  of  the  previous  state/ 

But  something  more  than  a  fixed  relation  between 
the  totality  of  phenomena  at  one  instant  and  the 
totality  of  phenomena  at  the  next  instant,  is  required 
before  we  can,  in  the  scientific  sense  of  the  expression, 
assert  that  these  are  '  laws  of  nature.'  A  law  of  nature 
refers  to  a  fixed  relation,  not  between  the  totality  of 
phenomena,  but  between  extremely  small  portions  of 


136    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

that  totality ;  and  it  asserts  a  fixed  connection,  not 
between  individual  concrete  phenomena,  but  between 
classes  of  phenomena.  Now  by  no  known  process 
of  logic  can  we  extract  from  the  general  proposition, 
that  '  the  subsequent  state  of  the  world  is  the  effect 
of  the  previous  state,'  any  evidence  that  such  laws  as 
these  exist  at  all;  and  what  is  more,  this  general 
proposition  might  be  perfectly  true,  and  yet  the 
course  of  nature  might  be,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
absolutely  irregular,  even  to  an  intelligence  which, 
very  unlike  our  own,  was  able  to  grasp  phenomena 
in  their  totality  at  any  given  moment.  For  '  regula- 
rity '  is  an  expression  absolutely  inapplicable  to  series, 
in  which  there  is  no  kind  of  repetition  ;  and  we  have 
no  reason  for  supposing — from  the  point  of  view  of 
science  we  have  every  reason  for  no^  supposing — 
that  the  world  will  ever  return  exactly  to  the  same 
state  in  which  it  was  at  some  previous  moment. 
If,  therefore,  we  have  grounds  for  believing  that 
the  states  of  the  universe  at  two  successive  instants 
are  connected  only  as  wholes,  and  not  necessarily  by 
means  of  independent  causal  links  between  their 
separate  parts,  then  of  such  a  universe  we  could  say, 
perhaps,  that  its  course  through  time  was  determined^ 
but  we  could  not  say  that  it  was  regular,  nor  would 
it  be  possible  for  a  mind,  however  gifted,  to  infer,  by 
any  known  process  of  reasoning,  its  future  from  its 
past. 

If  I  may  judg'e  from  a  phrase  of  Professor  Caird's, 


CHAP.  VI.]  TRANSCENDENTALISM.  137 

he  holds  a  different  opinion,  for  he  appears  to  think 
that  the  existence  of  causal  links  between  individual 
phenomena  follows  necessarily  from  the  fact  of  a 
causal  connection  between  the  totality  of  phenomena 
at  different  times.  '  To  find,'  he  says,^  '  the  special 
threads  of  causality  which  connect  the  sequent  states 
of  objects  is  of  course  a  matter  of  careful  observation 
and  experiment.  Bi^^  in  asserting  sequence  we  have 
already  by  implication  asserted  that  the  threads  are 
there.'  I  do  not  know  whether  the  implication  here 
spoken  of  is  transcendental.  Its  nature  is  developed 
neither  by  Kant  nor  by  himself,  and  my  own  unas- 
sisted efforts  to  find  it  in  the  '  clear  consciousness '  of 
sequence  have,  as  perhaps  was  natural,  met  with  no 
success.  But  if  it  is  not  transcendental,  certainly  it  is 
not  empirical.  I  showed  before,  that,  admitting  the 
existence  of  these  causal  threads,  experience  alone 
could  never  show  their  precise  nature  ;  still  less,  if 
we  do  not  admit  their  existence,  can  experience  alone 
prove  it.  It  is  not,  however,  necessary  to  waste  the 
reader's  time  in  establishing  this  point.  The  trans- 
cendentalist  would  be  ready  to  admit  it  without  de- 
monstration, since,  if  he  allowed  that  experience  was 
a  sufficient  ground  of  belief  in  this  case,  he  would 
find  it  hard  to  deny  its  sufficiency  in  other  cases  ; 
while,  on  the  empiricist's  view  of  the  question  I 
have  sufficiently  dwelt  in  the  earlier  chapters  of  this 
essay. 

1  p.  459. 


138    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

THREE  ARGUMENTS  FROM  POPULAR  PHILOSOPHY. 

In  this  chapter  I  propose  to  examine  the  philosophic 
value  of  three  arguments  which  may  be  called, 
respectively,  the  *  Argument  from  general  consent,' 
the  '  Argument  from  success  in  practice,'  and  the 
y  Argument  from  ''  common  sense."' 

These  arguments  are  not,  perhaps,  as  a  general 
rule,  put  forward  as  final  and  conclusive  grounds  of 
belief  by  writers  having  much  pretension  to  philo- 
sophic insight ;  but  they  fill  so  important  a  place 
among  the  reasons  by  which  men  are,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  convinced,  they  constitute  such  a  large  part  of 
actual  popular  philosophy,  that  they  require  some 
notice  in  this  essay. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  of  a 
truth  which  has  been  already  stated,  that  in  discuss- 
ing them  no  attempt  can  legitimately  be  made  to 
demonstrate  their  insufficiency  to  furnish  a  basis  of 
philosophic  certitude.  Neither  this  attribute,  nor  its 
converse  can,  from  the  nature  of  things,  be  demon- 
strated of  any  argument  whatever.  It  is  as  impos- 
sible to  prove  that  a  belief  is  not  to  be  accepted  as 


CHAP.  VII.]  POPULAR  PHILOSOPHIC  ARGUMENTS.    139 

one  of  the  ultimate  data  of  knowledge,  as  to  prove 
that  it  is  to  be  so  accepted.  This  is  a  point  the 
decision  of  which  must  in  all  cases  be  left  to 
each  man's  individual  judgment;  and  the  duty  of 
the  philosopher  can  go  no  further  than  to  make 
the  decision  as  easy  as  possible,  and  to  see  that  it 
is  really  given  on  the  main  question  at  issue,  and,  in 
the  first  instance  at  least,  on  that  alone.  If  the 
verdict  be  given  in  the  affirmative,  and  the  belief  in 
question  is  pronounced  true  and  also  ultimate,  then 
it  will  be  necessary,  in  the  second  place,  to  enquire 
how  much  ground  it  covers  ; — i.e.,  what  conclusions 
we  may  draw  from  it,  and  what  proportion  these 
conclusions  bear  to  the  total  number  of  beliefs  we 
desire  to  establish. 

In  conformity  with  this  plan,  let  us  discuss  in  the 
first  place  that  particular  argument  from  authority 
which  I  have  called  the  'Argument  from  general 
consent'  It  will  be  admitted,  I  suppose,  at  once, 
that  any  one  who  regards  the  general  consent  of 
mankind  as  a  final  ground  of  belief  must  hold,  ist, 
that  some  of  his  particular  beliefs  either  are,  or 
may  be  deduced  from,  propositions  assented  to  by 
the  generality  of  mankind ;  and,  2nd,  that  propo- 
sitions assented  to  by  the  generality  of  mankind  are 
true. 

Now  with  regard  to  the  first  of  these  positions. 
I  would  ask  any  one  who  holds  it,  whether  he  is 
immediately  convinced   of  the   fact   that   mankind 


140    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

assent  generally  to  any  given  proposition,  or  whether 
.he  arrives  at  that  conviction  by  a  process  of  reason- 
'ing  ?  If,  as  is  more  than  probable,  he  adopts  the 
latter  alternative,  by  so  doing  he  admits,  at  all  events, 
that  he  believes  S07ne  propositions  which  are  not 
proved  by  general  consent — all  those,  namely,  which 
are  required  to  establish  the  fact  that  this  general 
consent  exists.  These,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  are 
of  the  same  general  character  as  those  which  are 
required  to  establish  any  other  historical  fact,  and 
consist  in  the  first  place  of  evidence,  oral  and  docu- 
mentary, and  in  the  second  place,  of  those  general 
principles  which,  as  the  reader  is  already  aware,  are 
required  before  any  general  induction  can  be  based 
on  these  or  any  other  particulars.  Before,  therefore, 
any  use  can  be  made  of  the  fact  (if  fact  it  be)  that 

*  propositions  assented  to  by  the  generality  of  man- 
kind are  true,'  we  must  both  believe  a  large  number 
of  statements  because  they  are  assented  to,  not  by 
the  generality,  but  by  a  very  small  fraction  of  man- 
kind, and  also  accept  a  large  number  of  the  very 
propositions  for  which  we  most  desire  to  obtain 
proof,  and  in  favour  of  which  it  is  thought  that  the 

*  argument  from  general  consent '  may  legitimately 
be  invoked. 

So  much  for  what,  in  formal  logic,  is  called  the 
'  minor  premiss  '  of  the  argument  under  discussion. 
Let  us  now  turn  to  the  *  major  premiss,'  which,  as 
has  already  been  stated,  would  run  in  this  way  : — 


CHAP.  VII.]  POPULAR  PHILOSOPHIC  ARGUMENTS.    141 

What  mankind  have  generally  assented  to,  is 
true. 

Is  this  an  ultimate  proposition — one  which  we 
accept  as  neither  susceptible  of  proof,  nor  as  requir- 
ing proof  ?  If  any  reader  is  in  doubt  as  to  the  true 
reply  which  should  be  given  to  this  enquiry,  the 
answer  which  he  feels  disposed  to  make  to  the 
following  question  may,  perhaps,  help  him  to  a  deci- 
sion. Does  he  regard  the  argument  from  general 
consent  as  an  example,  and  a  specially  perfect  ex- 
ample, of  the  ordinary  argument  from  testimony  ? 
If  he  does,  and  I  think  he  probably  will,  then  the 
proposition  we  are  discussing  is  not  ultimate.  We 
are  commonly  told,  and  when  properly  understood 
the  assertion  is  perfectly  correct,  that  we  accept  the 
greater  number  of  our  beliefs  on  the  faith  of  testi- 
mony. But  by  this  is  not  meant,  or  ought  not  to 
be  meant,  that  the  real  ground  of  accepting  an  asser- 
tion is  the  fact  that  it  is  asserted.  The  real  ground 
is,  or  should  be,  the  belief  that  our  informant  or  in- 
formants probably  know  the  truth  and  are  probably 
willing  to  communicate  it.  And  this  belief  itself  is 
one  which  all  would  allow  required  evidence,  and 
could  not  therefore  be  considered  ultimate. 

Now  I  imagine  that  most  people  will,  on  reflec- 
tion, admit  that  this  is  true,  not  only  when  we  are 
dealing  with  the  opinion  of  this  or  that  individual, 
or  body  of  individuals,  but  also  when  we  are  dealing 
with    the  united    testimony  of  mankind.     In  other 


142     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 


words,  they  will  admit,  i  st,  that  the  '  argument  from 
general  consent '  is  merely  an  instance  of  the  ordi- 
nary arguments  from  testimony,  and,  2nd,  that  the 
ordinary  arguments  from  testimony  depend  on  some- 
thing beyond  the  fact  that  certain  opinions  have 
been  stated,  and  require  us  also  to  be  assured,  that 
the  persons  stating  them  were  truthful  and  well 
informed. 

This  amounts,  of  course,  to  an  admission  that 
the  proposition  we  are  discussing  is  not  an  ultimate 
one.  Strictly  speaking,  therefore,  we  might  consider 
the  discussion  at  an  end.  But  before  leaving  the 
subject,  it  may  be  worth  enquiring  whether  it  is 
nearly  ultimate — i.e.,  whether,  without  tracing  the 
thread  of  inference  much  further  back,  we  can  readily 
find  some  satisfactory  axiom  on  which  to  rest  it. 
Have  we  then  any  reason  to  believe  that  mankind, 
as  a  whole,  or  any  section  of  them,  are  well  informed 
(I  will  not  dispute  their  truthfulness)  respecting  the 
larger  postulates  of  science  ?  With  regard  to  man- 
kind as  a  whole,  I  can  only  imagine  two  reasons 
being  given  for  putting  confidence  in  their  opinion 
on  such  a  subject.  The  first  is,  that  a  belief  gene- 
rally held  for  ages  must  in  all  probability  be  in  har- 
mony with  the  experience  of  those  who  hold  it — 
must  *  succeed,'  that  is,  '  in  practice '  ;  the  other  is, 
that  the  universality  of  an  opinion  is  a  proof  that 
it  results  from  the  '  normal  working  of  the  human 
mind '  ;  in  other  words,   is  established  by  common 


CHAP,  vil]  popular  philosophic  ARGUMENTS.    143 

sense,  according  to  one  meaning  of  that  ambiguous 
expression.  As  these  arguments,  however,  form 
part  of  the  main  subject-matter  of  this  chapter,  and 
will  be  separately  discussed  in  their  proper  place,  I 
may  for  the  present  ignore  them.  It  remains,  there- 
fore, only  to  consider  whether  a  special  reason  exists 
for  reposing  confidence  in  the  opinion  of  some  par- 
ticular section  of  mankind  on  these  subjects ;  in 
other  words,  whether  there  is  any  body  of  men  who 
hold  a  position  towards  philosophy  at  all  correspond- 
ing to  that  which  experts  are  supposed  to  hold 
towards  science,  or  Churches  and  Popes  towards 
theology. 

The  only  persons,  I  suppose,  who  have  any 
claim  to  an  authority  of  this  kind  in  philosophy,  are 
philosophers  ;  and  if  they  had  all  agreed  in  their 
conclusions,  and  had  forborne  to  make  public  the 
various  lines  of  speculation  by  which  they  arrived 
at  them,  it  might  have  been  difficult,  perhaps,  pre- 
cisely to  estimate  the  value  of  their  pretensions. 
As,  however,  they  have  not  fulfilled  the  second  of 
these  conditions,  we  are  compelled  to  judge  each 
man  by  his  arguments,  and  are  so  altogether  carried 
out  of  the  region  of  authority ;  and  as  they  have 
not  fulfilled  the  first,  we  should,  if  reduced  to  be- 
lieving only  what  they  agreed  to  recommend,  be  left 
without  a  philosophic  creed  at  all.  As  is  remarked  ^ 
with  great  force  and  point  by  Sir  James  Stephen, 

^  Nineteenth  Century^  April,  1877,  p.  290. 


144    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

*  the  bare  names  of  Spinoza,  Leibnitz,  Kant,  Hegel, 
Descartes,  Pascal,  Bossuet,  Voltaire,  Cornte,  Hobbes, 
Locke,  Berkeley,  Hume,  Paley,  Mill,  are  quite  enough 
to  show  how  much  the  deepest  thought,  the  most 
brilliant  talents,  the  most  pious  feeling,  the  shrewdest 
practical  sagacity,  the  most  earnest .  and  scrupulous 
conscientiousness  have  contributed  to  a  practical 
agreement  on  this  subject.'  Sir  James  Stephen  is 
here  talking,  I  ought  to  mention,  of  the  founda- 
tions of  theology ;  but  the  remark,  with  one  slight 
omission,  is  at  least  as  appropriate  to  the  foundation 
of  science,  with  which  alone  I  am  here  concerned. 

To  sum  up.  The  minor  premiss  of  the  argu- 
ment from  general  consent  (and  the  same  is  true 
of  all  arguments  from  authority)  cannot  be  proved 
without  assuming  many,  if  not  all,  of  those  scientific 
postulates,  which  it  is  the  business  of  that  argument 
to  prove.  The  major  premiss,  on  the  other  hand, 
of  the  argument  cannot,  any  more  than  the  major 
premiss  of  any  other  argument  from  authority,  be 
regarded  as  an  ultimate  belief;  and  (the  case  of 
experts  being  excluded)  if  we  ask  what  proof  can  be 
given  of  it,  we  are  reduced  either  to  the  *  argument 
from  success  in  practice,'  or  to  the  *  argument  from 
common  sense.' 

I  turn,  therefore,  to  the  first  of  these — about 
which  a  very  few  words  will  suffice. 

The  *  Argument  from  success  in  practice  '  is  no- 
thing more  than  an  appeal  from  the  scepticism  of  theory 


CHAP.  VH.]  POPULAR  PHILOSOPHIC  ARGUMENTS.     145 

to  the  faith  which  is  born  of  experience.  '  You 
assert,'  it  says,  *  that  no  logical  proof  of  ordinary 
opinions  can  be  given,  and  that  neither  common 
sense  nor  universal  consent  can  supply  a  basis  of 
philosophical  certitude.  Grant  that  this  is  so  ;  it  by 
no  means  necessarily  follows  that  men  ought  to  give 
up  on  a  point  of  theory,  or  through  some  over- 
subtlety  of  speculation,  beliefs  which  work  admir- 
ably in  practice.  However  ingenious  may  be  your 
doubts,  after  all  experience  proves  that  they  have  no 
substantial  foundation  ;  nor  is  it  any  use  to  say  that 
the  uniformity  of  nature,  or  any  other  great  prin- 
ciple, is  not  proved  to  be  true,  when  every  hour  of 
our  lives  shows  that  at  all  events  it  is  true  enough 
for  all  practical  purposes.' 

That  men  ought  not  to  give  up  on  speculative 
grounds  the  belief  in  '  the  uniformity  of  nature,  or 
any  other  great  principle,'  I  hold,  as  the  reader  will 
see  if  his  patience  lasts  till  the  end  of  the  volume, 
with  as  much  persistence  as  any  man.  But  I  must 
altogether  take  exception  to  the  statement  which  is  the 
central  point  of  the  argument  just  stated,  namely,  that 
the  fact  that  these  principles  work  in  practice  is  any 
ground  for  believing  them  to  be  even  approximately 
true.  This  is  in  reality  an  example  of  the  illegiti- 
mate extension  of  a  perfectly  legitimate  argument. 
Given  certain  laws  of  nature — given  that  there  is  a 
fixed  plan  according  to  which  phenomena  occur,  and 
which    we    are    capable    of  discovering,    it    is    un- 


146    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

doiibtedly  true  that  the  fact  that  a  certain  theory 
*  works  in  practice,'  i.e.y  agrees,  so  far  as  our  experi- 
ence goes,  with  the  real  order  of  things,  is  a  ground 
for  putting  confidence  in  it  for  the  future  ;  how  much 
confidence  it  is  the  business  of  the  Inductive 
Logician  to  tell  us.  But  the  earlier  chapters  of  this 
essay  have  been  v/ritten  in  vain  if  the  reader  re- 
quires to  be  told  that  experience  is  altogether  in- 
capable of  establishing  the  truth — even  the  probable 
truth — of  these  initial  assumptions.  It  cannot  prove 
the  wisdom  of  a  provisional  belief  in  them,  simply 
because  it  can  prove  nothing  about  them  at  all.  Its 
oracles  are  not  so  much  ambiguous  in  their  import, 
as  altogether  dumb  ;  and  certainly  give  no  reason- 
able encouragement  to  the  compromise  (which,  how- 
ever, I  myself  believe  in)  between  theoretical 
scepticism  and  practical  faith. 

It  is  obvious  indeed  that  to  found  such  a  com- 
promise on  the  teaching  of  experience  is  a  proceed- 
ing which,  if  the  reasoning  of  the  preceding  chapters 
be  sound,  involves  a  logical  contradiction.  Ex- 
perience is  one  of  the  chief  idols  which  scepticism 
attacks  ;  to  admit,  therefore,  the  accuracy  of  the 
sceptical  argument,  but  to  add  that  experience  de- 
monstrates that  in  practice  it  may  be  neglected,  is 
to  say  in  the  same  breath  that  the  sceptical  reasonmg 
isy  and  that  it  is  not,  sound.  If  scepticism  proves 
anything,  it  proves  that  experience  proves  nothing. 

Similar  considerations  show  that  no  process  of 


CHAP.  VII.]  POPULAR  PHILOSOPHIC  ARGUMENTS.     147 

verification  can  produce  or  add  to  philosophic  certi- 
tude. Against  the  practical  use  and  necessity  of 
verification  I  have  not  a  word  to  say.  It  must 
always  remain  one  of  the  most  important  instruments 
for  determining  the  laws  of  nature,  granting  that  by 
any  known  method  the  determination  of  the  laws  of 
nature  is  possible.  But  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  there  is  any  philosophic  distinction  between 
founding  a  belief  on  experience  and  founding  a  belief 
on  experience  plus  verification.  Into  this  mistake, 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  Mr.  G.  H.  Lewes  has 
fallen  in  his  '  Problems  of  Life  and  Mind.'  He  seems 
to  imagine  that  because  knowledge  of  what  he 
calls  the  *  super-sensible,'  which  is  not  derived  from 
experience,  differs  from  knowledge  of  the  '  sensible ' 
and  the  '  extra-sensible,'  which  is  derived  from 
experience,  in  being  incapable  of  verification,  that 
therefore  it  is  less  worthy  of  belief  Whether 
a  knowledge  of  the  super-sensible,  i,e.y  theology 
and  metaphysics,  really  rests  on  a  less  substantial 
basis  than  science,  as  Mr.  Lewes  contends,  I  will 
not  argue  here  ;  but  at  all  events  the  difference  does 
not  depend  on  the  fact  that  the  theories  of  the  one 
CAN,  and  of  the  other  cannot,  be  verified,  since  veri- 
fication is  not  in  reality  a  separate  or  distinct  kind  of 
proof  It  is  merely  the  name  given  to  an  observation 
or  experiment  which,  instead  of  suggesting  a  new 
theory,  supports  one  already  framed.  It  does  not 
in    any    essential    particular   differ  from   other  em- 

L  2 


148     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

pirical  grounds  of  belief.  Philosophically  speaking, 
it  must  stand  with  them  or  fall  with  them,  nor  can  it 
afford  any  independent  evidence  for  a  system  of 
which  it  is  itself  an  integral  part. 

I  now  come  to  the  '  Argument  from  common 
sense,'  which  differs  from  the  two  arguments  that  have 
just  been  discussed  in  the  fact  that  it  constitutes, 
nominally  at  least,  an  essential  part  of  an  actual  philo- 
sophic system,  and  has  been  explicitly  advanced  as 
furnishing  a  sufficiently  solid  basis  for  belief,  not 
merely  by  the  vulgar,  but  by  thinkers  of  influence 
and  reputation.  Unfortunately,  however,  though 
these  thinkers  have  added,  by  the  sanction  of  their 
authority,  to  the  dignity  and  importance  of  the  term 
'  common  sense,'  this  has  not  been  accompanied  by 
any  increased  accuracy  or  clearness  in  its  definition. 
In  their  use  of  the  expression  they  have  not  always 
been  in  agreement  with  themselves,  with  each  other, 
or  with  the  unphilosophic  majority  :  though,  as  it 
is  only  with  the  opinions  of  the  latter  that  we  are 
here  concerned,  this  is  not  a  subject  which  at  this 
moment  need  detain  us. 

Now  when,  in  ordinary  discussion,  a  belief  is 
defended  on  the  ground  that  it  is  in  accordance  with 
common  sense,  what  is  frequently  intended  to  be 
conveyed  by  the  argument  I  imagine  to  be  some- 
thing of  this  sort : — '  The  belief  in  question  may  not 
be  exactly  defensible  on  rational  grounds,  we  admit 
that  we  cannot  satisfactorily  support  it  by  reasoning 


CHAP.  VII.]  POPULAR  PHILOSOPHIC  ARGUMENTS.     149 

— nevertheless  practically  all  men  micst  assent  to  it, 
and  all  men  do  assent  to  it,  and  there  is  nothing 
more  to  be  said  about  the  matter.'  I  have  no  com- 
plaint whatever  to  make  against  any  one  who  takes 
up  this  position,  provided  it  be  understood  exactly 
what  the  position  is.  It  is  not  an  argument  in 
favour  of  a  belief :  it  is  a  confession  that  no  such 
argument  can  be  found,  and  an  assertion  that  we 
must  do  without  one.  It  is  not  a  philosophy, 
either  of  common  sense  or  anything  else  ;  it  is  rather 
a  negation  of  all  philosophy.  And  therefore  it  is 
that,  directly  any  attempt  is  made  to  raise  what  is 
a  mere  dogmatic  assertion  to  the  dignity  of  a  philo- 
sophical reason,  it  is  found  necessary  to  buttress  it 
up  by  various  supplementary  principles,  which,  as 
they  are  not  always  clearly  distinguished  from  the 
original  ground  on  which  assent  was  demanded,  are 
apt  to  introduce  the  strangest  confusion  into  every 
part  of  the  subject.  This  necessity  of  adding  sup- 
port to  common  sense  pure  and  simple,  as  I  have 
just  described  it,  shows  itself  in  various  ways  in 
ordinary  quasi- philosophical  discussion.  Ask  any 
man  why  he  believes  the  dictates  of  common  sense, 
and  he  is  very  likely  to  say  that  he  does  so  because 
everybody  else  does  so  (which  is  the  '  argument 
from  general  consent '),  or  that  he  does  so  because 
he  and  mankind  in  general  find  them  answer— which 
is  the  '  argument  from  success  in  practice.'  Though 
if,  on  some  other  occasion,  he  is  asked  why  he  puts 


I50    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

confidence  in  these  two  latter  arguments,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  he  is  very  likely  to  say  that  he  does 
so  because  they  are  recommended  to  him  by  '  his 
common  sense.' 

But  there  is  another  argument  sometimes  used 
to  eke  out  the  bare  assertion  that  proof  must  be  fore- 
gone, which  is  so  important  that  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  it  does  not  better  deserve  the  title  of  the 
argument  from  common  sense ;  more  especially  as  it 
really  is  an  argument  (though  not  a  very  good  one), 
which  the  other  is  not.  It  may  be  stated  somewhat 
in  this  way  : — '  Human  intelligence,  like  any  other 
machine,  may  work  rightly  or  wrongly.  It  may  do 
its  proper  and  normal  work,  or  it  may  do  something 
altogether  different  and  abnormal.  In  the  former 
case  we  shall  obtain  from  it  truth  ;  in  the  latter, 
error.  In  order,  therefore,  to  get  at  the  truth,  we 
have  only  to  observe  what  an  intelligence  working 
normally  turns  out,  in  other  words  what  common 
sense  naturally  believes,  and  to  put  our  faith  in  that.* 

But  then  the  question  arises — What  is  an  intel- 
ligence *  working  normally '  1 

It  is  not  enough  to  say  that  it  is  an  intelligence 
working  in  such  a  way  as  to  perceive  the  truth,  for, 
when  asked  what  was  the  truth,  we  could  merely 
reply  that  it  was  that  which  an  intelligence  working 
normally  perceived  to  be  true,  and  when  asked  what 
an  intelligence  working  normally  was,  that  it  was  an 
intelligence  which  perceived    the    truth— a   pair  of 


CHAP.  VII.]  POPULAR  PHILOSOPHIC  ARGUMENTS.     151 

statements  which,  taken  by  themselves,  would  not 
bring  us  much  nearer  to  the  discovery  of  a  philo- 
sophy. Nor  is  it  of  any  use  to  say  that  a  normal 
intelligence  is  one  which  obeys  natural  laws  ;— not 
only  because,  if  science  is  to  be  believed,  every  intel- 
ligence, sane  or  insane,  does  that,  but  because  we 
should  then  be  in  the  singular  position  of  maintain- 
ing that  we  know  what  are  natural  laws  by  means  of 
an  intelligence  in  whose  judgment  we  had  confidence 
because  it  was  governed  by  natural  law.  Nor  yet  is 
it  possible  to  say  that  the  question  of  what  is  normal 
and  therefore  (indirectly)  of  what  is  true,  can  be 
decided  by  majorities  however  large  :  to  do  so  would 
be  to  revert  to  the  '  argument  from  general  consent,' 
which  has  been  already  disposed  of.  If  anything  is 
to  be  made  of  this  principle,  it  can  only  be  by  supple- 
menting it  in  some  form  or  other  by  the  idea  of 
design.  We  must  either  presuppose  a  Creator  who 
constructs  our  Intelligences  in  such  a  manner  that 
on  the  whole  what  they  incline  to  believe  is  true, 
or  else  we  must  adopt  the  modern  substitute  for  a 
Creator,  and  suppose  that  there  is  some  process  by 
which  right-thinking  intelligences  tend  to  multiply 
and  wrong-thinking  ones  to  die  out.  On  either  of 
these  suppositions,  it  is  undoubtedly  the  fact  that 
there  is  a  considerable  probability  that  what  all  men 
practically  agree  in  believing  is  worthy  of  belief :  but 
then,  not  to  speak  of  the  difficulty  already  dwelt  on 
of  showing,  without  2.  petitio  principii,  what  It  is  that 


152     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

all  men  agree  in  believing, — the  question  still  remains, 
what  reason  have  we  for  thinking  that  either  of  these 
suppositions  is  true  ?  Nobody  has  as  yet,  so  far  as 
I  know,  maintained  that  the  theory  of  natural  selec- 
tion is  self-evident ;  and  though  the  same  cannot 
absolutely  be  said  of  Theism,  yet  the  common 
opinion  seems  to  be  that  it  is  desirable  to  have,  if 
possible,  some  kind  of  proof  for  the  existence  of 
a  God.  In  any  case,  as  mankind  in  general  are  not 
more  disposed  to  believe  the  fundamental  principle 
of  Theology  than  they  are  to  believe  the  funda- 
mental principles  of  Science,  it  is  absurd  without 
further  evidence  to  adduce  the  first  in  support  of  the 
second. 

Design,  therefore,  whether  Theistic  or  atheistic, 
whether  depending  on  an  intelligent  Creator  or 
the  blind  operation  of  natural  selection,  requires 
proof.  And  what  kind  of  proof  is  possible  ?  I 
have  never  heard  of  any,  nor  can  I  imagine  any, 
which  does  not  depend  on  those  very  principles 
for  which  proof  is  required  ;  and  in  support  of 
which  the  hypothesis  of  a  normal  intelligence  con- 
trived by  design  was  adduced.  The  circle,  there- 
fore, in  which  the  argument  turns  is  evident.  We 
are  required  to  believe  in  certain  propositions  be- 
cause they  are  believed  in  by  a  normal  intelligence  : 
we  are  required  to  believe  in  the  existence  and  testi- 
mony of  a  normal  intelligence  because  intelligence  is 
the  product  of  design  or  of  something  equivalent  to 


CHAP.  VII.] -NATt?R2«7  PHILOSOPHIC  ARGUMENTS.    155 


design  :  and  we  are  required  to  believe  in  design 
because  of  certain  facts  which  can  only  be  established 
if  the  propositions  we  originally  set  out  to  prove  are 
true ! 

Of  the  two  meanings  then,  which,  so  far  as  I  can 
judge,  may  be  attributed  to  the  '  argument  from 
common  sense '  as  it  is  ordinarily  used,  the  first  is  not 
so  much  an  answer  to  scepticism  as  an  admission 
that  no  answer  is  forthcoming  ;  while  the  second 
ceases  to  be  effective  as  soon  as  the  various  propo- 
sitions which  compose  it  are  brought  into  clear 
relief, — it  is  plausible  only  so  long  as  it  is  confused. 


154     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS  AND   OF 
ORIGINAL  BELIEFS. 

The  reader  may,  perhaps,  be  surprised  that  hitherto 
while  discussing  the  argument  from  common  sense, 
I  have  not  had  occasion  to  do  more  than  allude  to 
the  philosophic  version  of  that  argument,  large  as  is 
the  space  which  it  occupies  in  the  field  of  English 
speculation.  This  omission,  which  will  be  Imme- 
diately remedied,  has  been  dictated  by  several 
reasons  ;  among  which  is  the  circumstance  that  the 
philosophy  of  common  sense  is,  according  to  the 
statement  of  its  most  eminent  modern  exponent,  in 
reality  not  founded  upon  common  sense  at  all,  but 
upon  consciousness  :  common  sense  being  merely  a 
name  given  to  the  attitude  of  mind  which  receives 
the  verdicts  of  consciousness,  or  what  are  thought  to 
be  such,  in  unhesitating  faith. ^  It  is  needless  to  say, 
that  this    is   an   attitude  of  mind  to    which    many 

'  This  refers  to  Sir  William  Hamilton's  opinions  as  expressed  in 
the  '  Dissertation  on  Reid.'  In  the  *  Lectures,'  see  Chap,  xxxviii.,  he 
gives  (after  his  fashion),  a  different  account  of  the  matter.  But  what- 
ever version  of  his  opinion  be  taken,  it  must,  I  believe,  if  clearly  ex- 
pressed, be  substantially  identical  either  with  the  theory  criticised  at 
the  beginning  of  this  chapter — i.e.^  the  theory  of  the' Dissertation,'  or 
that  dealt  with  at  the  end,  which  I  attribute  to  Mr.  Mill. 


CHAP.  VIII.]    AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.     155 

philosophers  lay  claim  whose  philosophy  has  nothing 
to  do  with  common  sense  ;  and  the  reader  therefore 
may  naturally  expect  that  the  ensuing  controversy 
will  mainly  turn,  not  on  whether  we  ought  to  trust 
consciousness,  but  on  what  the  consciousness  is 
which  we  ought  to  trust.  This  statement,  however, 
though  perhaps  it  fairly  enough  describes  the 
character  of  Mr.  Mill's  polemic  against  Hamilton, 
does  not  precisely  indicate  the  point  of  view  from 
which  the  question  is  approached  in  the  sequel. 

'  Demonstration,'  says  Sir  William  Hamilton,  *  if 
proof  be  possible,  behoves  to  repose  at  last  on  propo- 
sitions which,  carrying  their  own  evidence,  necessitate 
their  own  admission.'^  Nothing  can  be  truer.  This 
is  the  fundamental  doctrine  on  which  this  essay  rests, 
and  which  has  been  repeated  in  the  course  of  it  even 
to  weariness.  But  surely  it  is  a  strange  assertion 
with  which  to  introduce  a  discussion  on  the  grounds 
we  have  for  believing  those  propositions  '  which 
carry  their  own  evidence.'  If  they  carry  their  own 
evidence,  if  they  '  necessitate  their  own  admission,' 
what  can  be  the  use  of  introducing  a  dens  ex 
machind  in  the  shape  of  consciousness  in  order  to 
recommend  them  ?  The  reason  is  not  far  to  seek. 
There  are,  indeed,  if  knowledge  is  possible,  beliefs 
which  lie  at  the  root  of  all  knowledge,  which  'carry 
their  own  evidence '  and  *  necessitate  their  own  ad- 
mission ' ;  but  there  are  others  which  no  doubt  every 

^  Dissertation  on  Reid,  p.  742. 


156     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

4 _____ — _____ _ v^ 

one  would  wish  to  have  proved,  but  for  which  unfor- 
tunately no  proof  is  readily  forthcoming.  These  two 
classes  agree  in  nothing  but  the  single  fact,  that 
for  neither  of  them  can  any  reason  be  given  ;  while 
they  differ  in  the  somewhat  important  peculiarity  that 
whereas  the  self-evident^do  not  require  proof,  the  be- 
liefs of  common  sense  (as  we  might  call  the  second 
class)  cannot  obtain  it.  The  device,  which,  in  this 
difficulty,  occurred  to  Sir  William  Hamilton,  was 
partially  to  amalgamate  the  two  sorts  of  belief  by 
inventing  an  authority  which  he  called  by  the  time- 
honoured  name  of  consciousness,  which  should 
testify  to  both  of  them,^  not  indeed,  as  he  admits,  in 
precisely  the  same  way,  or  to  precisely  the  same 
degree,  still  sufficiently  in  the  second  case,  as  well  as 
in  the  first,  to  require  our  assent. 

To  my  thinking,  this  idea  of  a  faculty  within  the 
mind,  whether  called  conscience,  consciousness,  or 
common  sense,  inducing  the  mind  by  the  mere 
weight  of  its  authority  to  accept  certain  propositions, 
is  one  of  the  most  singular  fictions  which  has  ever 
appeared,  even  in  metaphysics.  It  is  a  fiction,  more- 
over, which  is  particularly  unfortunate  from  the  fact, 
that,  in  all  cases  where  it  is  not  superfluous,  it  is 
misleading.  In  the  case  of  propositions  which  have 
other  evidence.  It  is  clearly  superfluous  ;  in  the  case 
of  propositions  having  no  other  evidence  but  which 
are  certain    in  themselves,    it    is   also   superfluous ; 

'  P.  744. 


CHAP.  VIII.]     AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.    157 

while  in  the  case  of  propositions  which  have  neither 
external  evidence  nor  internal  certainty,  it  is  mislead- 
ing, since  it  can,  as  I  shall  presently  show,  only 
simulate  the  appearance  of  an  independent  and 
original  ground  of  belief. 

I  may  be  told,  indeed,  that  the  consciousness 
which  Sir  William  Hamilton  and  many  other  philo- 
sophers set  up  as  the  final  arbiter  of  truth  is  no 
separate  faculty  within  the  mind,  but  is  co-extensive 
with  the  mind  itself.  If  this  were  so,  their  theory 
might  be  much  more  tenable  psychologically,  but  it 
would  be  much  less  tenable  philosophically,  than 
it  was  before.  They  would  be  guiltless  of  founding 
their  philosophy  on  an  imaginary  faculty  ;  but  they 
would,  on  the  other  hand,  be  deprived  of  any 
single  and  supreme  authority  on  which  to  found 
it  at  all.  It  may  be  readily  admitted  that,  with- 
out doing  violence  to  established  usage,  consciousness 
might  be  used  a*s  a  general  name  for  mental  pheno- 
mena, or  our  apprehension  of  them  ; — but  in  that 
case  it  ought  not  to  be  regarded,  any  more  than 
other  general  names,  as  denoting  anything  separate 
and  distinct  from  the  several  particulars  it  describes. 
Though,  doubtless,  the  '  I '  in  relation  to  which  all 
mental  phenomena  are  apprehended  is  a  unity,  yet 
every  such  phenomenon  is  distinct  from  every  other, 
and  consciousness,  if  it  be  used  as  a  general  term  for 
describing  these  phenomena,  is  a  unity  only  in  the 
sense  of  being  one  name  which  belongs  to  a  great 


158    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

many  things,  and  in  this  sense  it  is  evident  that  it 
cannot  be  regarded  as  a  single  authority. 

This  is  equally  true  if  consciousness  is  taken  to 
be,  as  it  might  perhaps  be  maintained  that  Sir 
William  Hamilton  in  this  connection  intends  it  to  be, 
a  general  name  for  our  acts  of  intuitive  judgment. 
This  use  of  the  word  certainly  excludes  the  notion 
of  consciousness  being  set  up  as  a  kind  of  separate 
faculty,  but  then  it  also  excludes  the  idea  of  con- 
sciousness testifying  to  anything.  Either  there  is  no  j 
criterion  for  the  truth  of  intuitive  judgments,  in  which 
case  consciousness  cannot  be  that  criterion  ;  or  there  / 
is  a  criterion,  in  which  case  it  must  be  something  / 
more  than  a  general  name  by  which  those  judgments 
are  described.  In  the  first  case,^  much  of  Sir  William 
Hamilton's  language  must  be  regarded  as  metaphor- 
ical, and  some  of  it  as  erroneous  ;  in  the  second  case, 
it  would  seem  that  he  stands  committed  to  a 
doctrine  (which,  I  believe,  he  really  held),  according 
to  which  consciousness  is  regarded  as  a  kind  of 
judge  whose  veracity  and  whose  competence  are 
equally  above  suspicion. 

Now,  it  is  evident  that  a  theory  of  this  sort,  by 
which  consciousness  is  raised  to  a  position  in  philo- 
sophy similar  to  that  which  conscience  occupies  in 
popular  morality — this  telling  us  what  we  ought  to 
do,  just  as  that  tells  us  what  we  ought  to  believe— 
cannot  be  proclaimed  without  immediately  provok- 

*  Cf.  Lectures,  p.  5. 


CHAP.  VIII.]     AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  «&c.    159 

ing  three  questions  :  First,  Does  such  an  authority 
exist  ?  Second,  Why  ought  we  to  beHeve  it  ? 
Third,  What  does  it  tell  us  to  believe  ?  I  waive  the 
first  of  these  questions,  though  it  raises  points  of 
great  interest  about  which  much  might  be  said,  and 
I  pass  on  to  the  second.  Why  ought  we  to  believe 
it  ?  Sir  William  Hamilton  is  in  no  way  embarrassed 
for  an  answer,  indeed,  in  the  *  Dissertation '  he  gives 
no  less  than  five,  of  which  the  following  is  a  list  :  >/Uj 

1.  Consciousness  ought  to  be  presumed  to  be       ,J^ 
true  till  it  is  proved  to  be  false. ^  i  V\/ 

2.  Some  of  the  data  of  consciousness  cannot  b©,^    ^ 
doubted,  because  the  doubt  would  annihilate  itself.^  /\ 

3.  The  data  of  consciousness  have  the  negative 
proof  of  consistency,  i.e.,  so  far  as  at  present  appears 
they  have  never  been  proved  inconsistent  with  each 
other.^ 

4.  If  they  are  untrue,  then  we  must  have  been 
deliberately  deceived  by  a  perfidious  Creator.^ 

5.  To  doubt  consciousness  involves  a  contra- 
diction.^ 

With  regard  to  the  first  of  these  proofs,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  say  that  some  more  solid  foundation  for 
a  creed  is  required  than  that  the  rules  of  debate, 
according  to  Sir  William  Hamilton's  interpretation 
of  them,  throw  the  burden  of  proof  on  the  objector. 

The  second  proof  is  not  strictly  speaking  a  proof 

'  Pp.  743,  745.  '  P.  744.  '   P.  745- 

^  Pp.  743,  745-  '  P-  754. 


i6o     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.-   [part  ii. 

that  the  authority  of  consciousness  is  to  be  trusted  ; 
it  is  rather,  in  so  far  as  it  is  sound,  an  assertion  that 
in  some  cases  that  authority  is  not  required  ; — that 
certain  of  its  utterances  are  intrinsically  certain. 

The  third  proof,  like  the  first,  is  of  too  negative 
a  character  to  make  it  worth  while  discussing  it  at 
any  length  :  at  the  best,  it  only  removes  a  hypo- 
thetical objection. 

The  fourth  proof  has  been,  I  imagine,  sufficiently 
dealt  with  in  the  remarks  made  above  in  the  course  of 
the  discussion  on  the  ordinary  view  of  the  argument 
from  common  sense.^  Some  additional  observations 
will  be  found  in  Mill's  '  Examination,'  p.  164. 

The  fifth  argument  has  the  peculiarity  of  not 
only  being  intrinsically  unsound,  but  of  being  so  on 
the  evidence  of  Sir  William  Hamilton  himself,  given 
a  few  pages  previously.  On  p.  754  he  asserts  that 
to  doubt  the  truth  of  consciousness  when  it  testifies 
to  what  he  elsewhere  calls  a  fact  '  beyond  its  own 
ideal  existence,'  is  tantamount  to  *  believing  that  the 
last  ground  of  all  belief  is  not  to  be  believed,  which 
is  self -contradictory!  While,  on  p.  744,  he  assures 
us  truly  enough  that  *  doubt  does  not  in  this  case 
.  .  .  refute  itself.  //  is  not  suicidal  by  self-contra- 
diction! If  self-contradiction  is  suicidal,  the  vitality 
of  Sir  William  Hamilton's  opinions  on  this  par- 
ticular point  can  hardly  be  such  as  to  make  any 
lengthened  discussion  of  them  necessary.^ 

*  See  ante,  p.  151.     ^  Vide  Mill's  Examination  of  Hmnilton,  p.  158. 


CHAP.  VIII.]  AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.     i6i 

These  proofs,  it  will  be  recollected,  are  proofs 
at  the  second  remove  of  judgments  which,  though 
they  were  originally  pronounced  to  '  carry  their  own 
evidence  *  and  to  *  necessitate  their  own  admission,' 
are  many  of  them,  in  reality,  open  to  doubt.  We 
are  first  called  upon  to  believe  these  truths  on  the 
authority  of  consciousness  :  and  we  are  now  called 
upon  to  believe  the  authority  of  consciousness  on 
the  strength  of  the  five  somewhat  inadequate  reasons. 

But  now  the  question  arises,  By  what  means  are 
we  to  discover  the  judgments  to  which  conscious- 
ness certifies  ?  Instead,  however,  of  answering  this 
question.  Sir  William  Hamilton  answers  quite 
another  one,  namely.  What  are  the  marks  by  which 
we  may  discover  those  judgments  which  are  original  ? 
Whence,  it  would  appear,  that  he  considers  that  all 
deliverances  of  consciousness  are  original  judgments, 
and  that  all  original  judgments  are  deliverances  of 
consciousness.  Before  examining  what  grounds  he 
may  have  for  such  an  opinion,  I  must  say  one  word 
on  the  meaning  of  the  word  '  original,'  round  which 
much  confusion  has  arisen  in  connection  with  this 
subject  in  the  writings  of  more  than  one  author. 

The  word  '  original,'  when  applied  to  a  belief  or 
judgment,  may  be  legitimately  used  in  two  senses, 
which  are  perfectly  distinct,  though  they  are  not 
always  distinguished.  It  may  mean  either  that 
which  stands  first  in  order  of  logic,  that  which  is  a 
premiss,  but  not  a  conclusion,  or  that  which  stands 

M 


i62    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

first  in  order  of  time,  that  which  (to  put  it  more 
strictly),  in  the  chain  of  phenomena  governed  by 
psychological  laws,  may  be  a  cause,  but  is  not  a 
product.  When  it  is  said  that  all  proof  must  finally 
rest  on  original  propositions  which  are  not  themselves 
proved,  the  term  is  used  in  its  first  meaning :  when 
it  is  said  that  'necessity  is  a  criterion  which  will 
enable  us  to  distinguish  an  original  datum  of  intelli- 
gence from  a  result  of  generalisation  and  custom,'^ 
it  is  used  in  its  second  meaning.  Mr.  Mill,  as  will 
appear  directly,  habitually  uses  it  in  the  second  sense, 
and  seemed  to  think  that  Hamilton  did  the  same. 
In  this,  I  think,  he  was  mistaken.  Hamilton  used  it, 
I  believe,  in  both  senses  (though  without  distinguish- 
ing between  them),  and,  on  the  whole,  more  fre- 
quently in  the  first  sense  than  in  the  second. 

On  what  grounds  then  (to  return  to  our 
argument)  does  Sir  William  Hamilton  identify  our 
original  judgments  (according  to  either  definition  of 
the  word  'original')  with  the  deliverances  of  conscious- 
ness ?  He  gives  no  reason  himself;  and  as  I  know 
nothing  but  what  can  be  gathered  from  his  writings 
respecting  the  nature  of  that  internal  authority,  not 
even  the  fact  of  its  existence,  I  am  unable  to  supply 
any.  But  this  omission,  it  is  evident,  destroys  the 
value  of  the  whole  argument  from  common  sense. 
Grant  that  consciousness  is  shown  to  be  trustworthy 
by  the  five  arguments,  and  that  original  judgments 

^  Cf.  Hamilton's  Lectures,  pp.  268,  270. 


CHAP.  VIII.J   AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.     163 

may  be  recognised  by  the  four  marks^  enumerated 
by  Sir  William  Hamilton,  how  are  we  advanced, 
unless  we  know  that  the  original  judgments  are 
identical  with  those  which  are  certified  by  conscious- 
ness ?  Perhaps  I  shall  be  told  that  their  identity 
follows  from  the  definition  of  the  terms  employed — 
that  original  judgments  and  deliverances  of  con- 
sciousness must  be  the  same  thing,  because  the  two 
expressions  mean  the  same  thing  ;  or  to  put  it  tech- 
nically, that  their  ^<?-notation  cannot  be  different  since 
their  con-x\.oX2X\ovi  is  identical.  If  this  really  be  so, 
it  is  plain  that  Sir  William  Hamilton  used  one  or 
other  of  the  terms  '  consciousness '  and  *  original ' 
in  an  altogether  different  sense  from  that  which  I 
have  supposed.  If  we  are  to  identify  in  meaning 
'  deliverance  of  consciousness '  with  what  is  properly 
an  original  judgment,  then  consciousness  cannot  be 
an  authoritative  faculty  ;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
are  to  identify  '  original  judgment  '  with  judgment 
delivered  by  authority,  then  '  original  judgment ' 
must  signify  something  different  from  either ^^^5^/  in 
logic,  ox  first  in  causation. 

On  the  first  of  these  suppositions,  by  which 
consciousness  is  dethroned  from  its  dignity,  and 
serves  merely  to  furnish  a  general  name  for  certain 
of  our  convictions  (those  namely  which  are  original), 
I  wish  to  know  what  is  meant  by  such  an  assertion 
as  this — that  consciousness  assures  us  of,  or  gives 

^  Dissertation,  P«  754« 
M  3 


i64    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 


testimony  to,  its  own  existence,  and  also  to  some- 
thing beyond  its  own  existence?^  If  this  is  not 
language  gratuitously  metaphorical,  it  clearly  implies 
that  consciousness  is  an  authority  which  can  give 
us  two  kinds  of  information  ;  information,  namely, 
about  itself,  which  Hamilton  says  we  cannot  doubt, 
and  information  about  something  else,  which  he  tells 
us  we  can  doubt.  What,  again,  is  meant  by  telling 
us  that  'the  credibility  of  consciousness  must  be 
determined  by  the  same  maxims  as  the  credibility  of 
any  other  witness'^  if  consciousness  be  a  mere 
fictitious  unity  ?  And,  finally,  what  plausibility 
remains  in  the  reasons  by  which  Hamilton  tries  to 
persuade  us  that  consciousness  is  veracious  ?  If 
consciousness  be  an  authority  implanted  in  us  for 
our  guidance,  there  may  be  some  reason  (on  the 
Theistic  hypothesis  of  the  universe)  for  supposing . 
that  it  is  inconsistent  with  the  Divine  veracity  that 
it  should  be  otherwise  than  trustworthy.  But  what 
shadow  of  reason  can  there  be  for  making  the  Deity 
specially  responsible  for  certain  beliefs  solely  because 
they  do  not  happen  to  be  produced  by  known 
psychological  laws,  or  because  no  other  reason  for 
accepting  them  happens  to  be  forthcoming  ?  And 
why  are  such  laws  to  be  presumed  true  till  they  are 
proved  to  be  false,  like  the  utterances  of  a  respect- 
able witness  who  has  never  been  detected  in  an 
untruth  ?     These  reasons  are  bad  if  the  common 

*  Cf.  Dissertation,  p.  745.  «  P.  749. 


CHAP,  viii.]   AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.     165 

sense  philosophy  is  founded  upon  the  existence  of 
a  single  subjective  authority  ;  but  if  it  is  not  so 
founded,  they  cease,  I  think,  even  to  be  specious. 

The  difficulties  on  the  opposite  view  of  Hamil- 
ton's meaning  are  perhaps  not  less  serious.  He 
never  scruples  to  talk  of  fundamental  beliefs,^ 
primary  beliefs,^  original  bases  of  knowledge,^ 
original  (as  opposed  to  derivation)  convictions,"^  &c., 
&c.,  when  an  argument  founded  solely  upon  the 
authority  of  consciousness  would  require  him  to 
talk  of  *  the  deliveran.ee  of  consciousness.'  And  it 
is  hardly  conceivable  that  he  should  so  far  ignore 
the  proper  use  of  language  as  to  employ  all  these 
terms,  every  one  of  which  naturally  implies  origin- 
ality in  one  of  its  two  legitimate  meanings,  as  merely 
signifying  that  which  emanates  from  consciousness 
regarded  as  a  subjective  authority. 

I  believe,  then,  that  in  his  exposition  of  the 
common  sense  philosophy  there  is  an  ambiguity  ;  but 
I  further  hold  that  this  ambiguity  is  essential  to  the 
plausibility  of  that  celebrated  system,  otherwise  I 
should  not  have  so  long  detained  the  reader  over 
the  matter.  Tl^e  problem  that  Sir  William  Hamil- 
ton desired  to  solve  was  a  perfectly  legitimate 
one.  He  found  certain  beliefs,  those  respecting 
the  existence  of  our  actual  conscious  state,  which  no 
sceptic  had  questioned.       He    found  others  whose 

*  P.  743-  '  P.  742. 

'  P.  743.  '  P.  754. 


i66    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOtfBT.    [part  ii. 

truth  it  was  scarcely  less  desirable  to  raise  beyond 
suspicion,  which  scepticism  had  made,  at  least 
theoretically  doubtful.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  It 
seemed  as  impossible  to  find  anything  like  a  reason 
for  these  convictions  as  it  was  to  give  them  up 
because  no  reason  was  forthcoming.  The  Kantian 
device  for  getting  over  the  difficulty  never  seems  to 
have  been  understood  by  him  ;  merely  to  say  that 
the  beliefs  were  innate  was  out  of  fashion  since 
Locke ;  nothing  therefore  was  left  but  the  scheme 
which  I  have  just  been  considering.  Ask  a  common 
sense  philosopher  of  the  Hamlltonian  school  what 
he  believes,  and  he  tells  you  that  he  believes  all 
the  original  convictions  of  mankind  ;  ask  him  why 
he  believes  them,  and  he  tells  you  that  It  Is  be- 
cause they  are  deliverances  of  consciousness.  It 
is  because  some  of  the  original  convictions  of 
mankind  are  not,  considered  by  themselves,  beyond 
the  reach  of  scepticism,  that  the  authority  of  con- 
sciousness is  invoked  in  their  behalf ;  it  is  because 
no  mere  reflection  on  the  nature  of  that  imaginary 
faculty  can  make  known  what  are  Its  deliver- 
ances, that  it  is  necessary  to  take  for  granted  that 
they  are  Identical  with  the  original  convictions  of 
mankind.  Some  of  the  confusion  and  ambiguity 
incident  to  Hamilton's  exposition  of  the  theory  are 
therefore  really  necessary  to  its  plausibility.  If  you 
improve  his  statement,  you  destroy  his  system — 
always  supposing  that  his  system  is  as  I  have  repre- 


CHAP.  VIII.]  AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.     167 

sented  it.  On  this  point,  however,  I  admit  I  may- 
have  been  mistaken.  Mr.  Mill's  version  of  it,  which 
is  very  different,  may  be,  after  all,  the  correct  one  ; 
and  to  this,  which,  strange  to  say,  he  not  only 
attributed  to  Reid,  to  Hamilton,  and  to  the  philo- 
sophic world  at  large,  but  also  fully  accepted  himself, 
I  now  address  myself. 

To  many  the  last  sentence  of  the  preceding  para- 
graph will  seem  a  paradox.  That  Mr.  Mill,  who 
has  criticised  the  Hamiltonian  theories  at  length, 
and  who  in  the  chapter  devoted  to  the  *  Common 
Sense  Philosophy,'  has  declared  that  he  and 
Hamilton  differed  on  the  most  important  question 
about  which  philosophers  were  divided,  that  he 
should  really  hold  the  philosophic  opinions  which 
he  attributes  to  his  opponent,  may  easily  excite  sur- 
prise. It  is,  nevertheless,  true.  He  agreed  with 
what  he  considered  the  philosophy  of  Hamilton  to 
be ;  and  where  he  differed  from  him  was  not  on  a 
point  of  philosophy,  but  on  a  question  whose  interest, 
which  I  admit  to  be  great,  is  almost  purely  psycho- 
logical. 

His  theory  was  this.  The  premises^  of  all 
knowledge  consist  of  immediate  and  intuitive  beliefs. 
Some  of  these  immediate  and  intuitive  beliefs  are 
those  we  have  concerning  our  own  actual  subjective 

1  Examination  of  Hamilton,  p.  151. 


i68    A. DE:fe:NCE:  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  II. 

states  :  ^  but  there  are,  or  may  be,  others  not  less 
worthy  of  credit,^  which  are  described  as  *  facts  ^ 
which  have  been  in  consciousness  from  the  begin- 
ning,' *  the  original  elements  of  mind,'  ^  *  our  original 
beliefs.'^  That  these  judgments,  if  they  exist,  are 
to  be  trusted  he  did  not  doubt  himself,  and  he 
seemed  to  think  that  no  other  philosopher  could 
have  doubted.  The  real  difficulty  arises,  according 
to  him,  when  the  question  comes  to  be  discussed  as 
to  what  these  original  beliefs  are  :  and  it  was  on  this 
point  that  he  thought  the  philosophic  world  was 
divided  into  two  great  parties,  according  as  they 
pursued  one  or  other  of  two  methods,  which  he 
names  respectively  the  psychological  and  the  intro- 
spective. The  former  of  these  consists  in  rejecting 
from  among  the  list  of  apparently  original  beliefs  all 
those  to  which  the  operation  of  the  law  of  the 
association  of  ideas  or  (I  presume)  any  other  psycho- 
logical law,  would  give  an  appearance  of  immediate- 
ness  or  necessity:  the  latter,  in  accepting  these 
attributes  as  conclusive  proof  that  the  convictions  to 
•which  they  belonged  were  part  of  the  original  furni- 
ture of  the  mind. 

If  the  philosophic  world  really  were  divided 
mainly  on  this  point,  the  small  progress  that  philo- 
sophy has  made  would  cease  to  be  surprising.  For, 
in  reality,  the  question  is  one  chiefly  of  psychological 

*  P.  1. 51.  '^  P.  172.  »  P.  157. 

*  P.  173.  ^  P.  178. 


CHAP.  VIII.]    AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.    i6g 

interest,  and  has  little  direct  bearing  on  philosophy 
properly  understood.  As  a  matter  of  mere  historic 
fact,  I  should  be  unwilling  to  admit  that  the  marks 
by  which  original  judgments  are  to  be  discerned 
have  been  universally  considered  the  chief  battle- 
ground of  philosophy,  though  this  is  not  the  occasion 
on  which  to  discuss  the  question.  I  am  rather  con- 
cerned with  discovering  whether  Mr.  Mill's  view  of 
the  foundation  of  knowledge,  taken  even  in  connec- 
tion with  the  psychological  method,  can  furnish  any 
solid  philosophical  results. 

But  before  doing  so,  or  rather  in  order  to  do  so 
effectively,  it  is  necessary  to  determine  in  what  sense 
he  uses  the  word  consciousness.  As  we  have  seen, 
the  ultimate  beliefs  which  may  or  rather  must  be 
accepted  with  confidence  are,  according  to  him,  of 
two  kinds  :  the  beliefs  we  have  respecting  our  own 
actual  mental  states,  and  the  beliefs,  if  any,  which 
are  part  of  the  original  furniture  of  the  mind.  He 
frequently  asserts  that  we  hold  both  these  kinds  of 
belief  on  the  authority  of  consciousness.  Are  we 
then  to  attribute  to  him  the  theory  which  I  have 
attributed  to  Sir  William  Hamilton — the  theory,  I 
mean,  that  consciousness  is  an  internal  witness  which 
must  be  distinguished  like  other  witnesses  from  the 
statements  to  which  it  certifies  ?  I  think  not.  He 
used  the  language  in  this  respect  of  the  common 
sense  philosophy,  language  sanctioned  by  general 
philosophic  tradition  ;  but  as  the  fiction  suggested 


I70    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

by  it  is  not  in  any  way  necessary  to  his  system,  it 
will  be  more  convenient  to  assume  that  he  did  not 
believe  In  it.     The  reason  why  an  authoritative  con- 
sciousness is  a  necessary  part  of  the  common  sense 
philosophy  is,  as  I  have  explained  above,  because 
the  aim  of  that  philosophy  was  to  obtain  proof  for 
certain  judgments  about  which  scepticism  is  possible. 
Mr.  Mill  was  of  opinion  that  all  original  beliefs,  if 
such  exist,  stand  on  the  same  level  of  certainty  as 
our  beliefs  respecting  our  actual  states  of  mind  :  and 
about  these  he  was  of  opinion  that  scepticism  was 
impossible.     Now  it  is  evidently  superfluous  to  say 
that  we  believe  that  we  feel  cold  because  conscious- 
ness tells  us  that  we  feel  cold.     Even  If  these  two 
statements   asserted  different  things  instead  of,  as 
they  really  do,  the  same  thing,  it  is  obvious  that 
what  in  point  of  form  appears  here  as  the  premiss 
can  add  nothing  to  the  certainty  of  what  in  point  of 
form  appears  here  as  the  conclusion  :   and  thus  to 
adduce  the  testimony  of  consciousness  In  favour  of 
anything   which    is    as    certain   as    our   Immediate 
feelings  must   always  be  superfluous.      Moreover, 
it  is  not,  according  to  Mr.  Mill,  consciousness  whose 
authority  is  thus  indisputable,  whatever  occasional 
phrases  may  imply  to  the  contrary,  but  only  con- 
sciousness '  in  its  pristine  purity,'  ^  *  before  Its  original 
revelations  have  been  overlaid  : '  consciousness  in  its 
developed,  and  therefore  corrupted  condition,  being 

»  P.  171. 


CHAP.  VIII.]  AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.    171 

capable  apparently  of  any  amount  of  deception.  So 
that  if  we  are  to  credit  him  with  the  '  independent 
authority'  theory  of  consciousness,  besides  all  the 
other  difficulties  in  the  way  of  that  theory  which 
have  been,  or  might  be,  enumerated,  he  would  have 
to  overcome  the  presumption  which  Sir  William 
Hamilton  says  -^  must  lie  against  any  witness  de- 
tected in  error  \—falsus  in  uno.falsus  in  07nnibics.  If, 
in  addition  to  all  these  objections,  it  is  recollected  that 
the  theistic  or  teleological  assumption,  which  really 
lies  at  the  root  of  the  common  sense  philosophy,  was 
wholly  foreign  to  Mr.  Mill's  modes  of  thought,  it 
will  be  admitted,  I  think,  that  I  am  not  illegitimately 
improving  the  substance  of  his  teaching  if  I  venture 
always  to  describe  as  'original  beliefs'  or  'judg- 
ments,' what  he  occasionally  calls  the  '  revelations 
of  consciousness,'  or  the  *  genuine  '  or  *  original  de- 
liverances of  consciousness.' 

The  nature  of  his  theory  being  thus  determined, 
let  us  next  turn  to  the  question  of  its  value. 

'  Could  we  try  the  experiment  of  the  first  con- 
sciousness in  any  infant,'  says  Mr.  Mill,^  'its  first 
reception  of  the  impression  we  call  external,  what- 
ever was  present  in  that  first  consciousness  would  be 
the  genuine  testimony  of  consciousness"  (^.e.y  would, 
as  I  should  say,  be  an  original  judgment),  '  and 
would  be  as  much  entitled  to  credit,  indeed  there 
would  be  as  little  possibility  of  discrediting  it,  as  our 

^  Dissertation  on  Reid,  p.  746.  2  p^  j^^^  . 


172     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHlLOSOPMtC  DOUBT:     [partis 

sensations  themselves.  But  we  have  no  means  of 
now  ascertaining  by  direct  evidence  whether  we 
were  conscious  of  outward  and  external  objects 
when  we  first  opened  our  eyes  to  the  light.  That 
a  belief  or  knowledge  of  such  objects  is  in  our 
consciousness  now  whenever  we  use  our  eyes  or 
muscles,  is  no  reason  for  concluding  that  it  was 
there  from  the  beginning,  until  we  have  settled  the 
question  whether  it  was  brought  in  since.  If  any 
mode  can  be  pointed  out  in  which  within  the  com- 
pass of  possibility  it  might  have  been  brought  in, 
the  hypothesis  must  be  examined  and  disproved 
before  we  are  entitled  to  conclude  that  the  convic- 
tion is  an  original  deliverance  of  consciousness. 
The  proof  that  any  of  the  alleged  Universal  Beliefs, 
or  Principles  of  Common  Sense,  are  affirmations  of 
consciousness,  supposes  two  things  :  that  the  beliefs 
exist,  and  that  there  are  no  means  by  which  they 
could  have  been  acquired.' 

From  this  very  remarkable  extract,  which  con- 
tains explicitly  or  implicitly  the  whole  psychological 
theory  of  ultimate  beliefs  I  have  just  endeavoured  to 
explain,  it  is  clear,  as  I  before  stated,  that  a  belief 
may  be  either  of  the  highest  conceivable  certainty, 
or  of  no  certainty  at  all,  according  as  it  has  or  has 
not  been  in  consciousness  from  the  beginning  :  i.e,, 
according  to  whether  pyschological  laws  have  not 
or  have  been  concerned  in  its  production.  The 
grounds,    however,    on    which    this    very   singular 


CHAP.  VIII.]   AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.     173 

doctrine  is  based  are  not  so  plain.  Why  are  our 
earliest  beliefs  elevated  to  this  exceptional  dignity? 
Why  are  we  to  regard  infants  as  (at  least  potentially) 
occupying  the  place  in  matters  of  reason  which 
Councils  and  Popes  have  claimed  in  matters  of 
faith  ?  And  if  infants  are  to  be  credited  with  this 
unerring  insight  into  the  mysteries  which  have 
puzzled  philosophers,  are  we  to  deny  the  same  gift 
to  the  lower  animals  ?  And  if  we  are,  why  are  we  ? 
These  are  some  of  the  first  questions  which  the 
pyschological  theory  suggests ;  but  they  are  by  no 
means  the  only  ones.  Beliefs  which  have  been  the 
product  of  pyschological  laws — association  of  ideas, 
and  so  forth — are,  it  appears,  on  a  much  lower  level 
of  certainty  than  those  which  have  not  been  so  pro- 
duced. But  why  has  the  action  of  those  pyschologi- 
cal laws  so  much  more  pernicious  an  effect  upon  their 
products  than  the  operation  of  any  other  laws  ?  Mr. 
Mill  and  the  thinkers  of  his  school  would  be  the  last 
persons  to  deny  that  the  most  original  of  all  beliefs, 
those  which  have  been  in  consciousness  since  con- 
ciousness  was,  are  still  produced  by  some  laws.  Why 
are  these  laws  so  much  more  fortunate  in  their 
operation  than  those  which,  by  a  conventional  classi- 
fication, are  regarded  as  specially  mental,  that  we 
may  regard  their  results  as  having  attained  '  the  cer- 
tainty which  we  call  perfect.'^  I  cannot  tell,  and 
neither  Mr.  Mill  nor  the  great  body  of  philosophers 

»  P.  152. 


174    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

which  according  to  him  shares  his  opinion  on  this 
point,  appear  willing  or  able  to  do  so. 

Now  let  us  turn  for  a  moment  from  the  consider- 
ation of  how  we  know  that  beliefs  which  are  original 
are  specially  certain,  to  the  question  of  how  we  come 
to  know  in  the  first  instance  that  they  are  original. 
In  their  mode  of  dealing  with  this  problem  lay,  in 
Mr.  Mill's  opinion,  the  special  glory  of  the  school  to 
which  he  belonged.  It  consisted,  he  thought,  in  adapt- 
ing to  pyschology  '  the  known  and  approved  methods 
of  physical  science,'^  and  more  particularly  in  bringing 
to  light  the  original  elements  of  consciousness  *  as 
residual  phenomena,  by  a  previous  study  of  the 
modes  of  generation  of  the  mental  facts  which  are 
not  original.'  ^  Against  this  *  pyschological  method/ 
when  confined  to  pyschology,  I  have  not  a  word  to 
say.  I  am  perfectly  ready  to  admit  that  it  has  all 
the  merits  which  may  appertain  to  the  '  known  and 
approved  methods  of  physical  science  ' ;  but  what  I 
wish  to  point  out  is,  that  though  it  may  give  us  a 
pyschology,  it  can  never  give  us  a  philosophy.  In 
the  first  place,  the  known  and  approved  methods  of 
physical  science  unfortunately  take  for  granted  most 
of  the  judgments  which  it  is  the  pressing  business  of 
philosophy  to  establish,  and  which  therefore,  it  is 
evident,  cannot  be  proved  by  that  method  without 
arguing  in  a  circle.  In  the  second  place,  even  if 
these  scientific  assumptions  were  established  by  some 

'  P.  173.  ""  Ibid. 


CHAP.  VIII.]    AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.    175 

Other  means,  still  no  belief  shown  by  this  method  to 
be  original  can  be  ultimate  for  us,  simply  because 
the  fact  is  one  that  has  to  be  shown.  Grant  that  it 
is  original,  and  then,  may  be,  '  there  would  be  as 
little  possibility  of  discrediting  It  as  our  sensations 
themselves ' ;  but  as  we  can  never  know  that  It  was 
original  without  a  previous  argument,  the  fact,  If  fact 
It  be,  does  not  help  us  much  nearer  to  the  founda- 
tions of  a  creed.  To  Mr.  Mill's  hypothetical  baby 
no  doubt  its  first  impressions  may  supply  a  solid 
ground  of  belief  But  to  us  who  have  to  arrive  at  a 
knowledge  of  what  these  are  by  the  laborious  use 
of  the  '  approved  methods  of  physical  science,'  this 
circumstance  Is,  philosophically  speaking,  of  small 
value,  and  can  afford  us  but  little  consolation. 

There  seem,  therefore,  to  be  three  fatal  objec- 
tions to  a  philosophy  founded  upon  the  authority  of, 
original  beliefs.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  no  ground 
for  supposing  that  original  beliefs  are  particularly 
fitted  to  serve  as  the  foundation  of  a  creed ;  in  the 
second  place,  .there  is  no  ground  for  supposing  that 
acquired  beliefs  are  particularly  unsulted  for  such  a 
purpose ;  and,  in  the  third  place,  it  Is  Impossible  to 
determine  what  beliefs  are  original  and  what  are 
acquired  without  assuming  the  truth  of  many  pro- 
positions whose  only  evidence  can  on  this  theory  be 
that  they  are  original. 

I  shall,  perhaps,  be  told  that  though  Mr.  Mill 
attaches   In   theory  this   absolute   certitude   to  our 


176     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

original  beliefs,  yet  that  in  practice  he  supposed 
himself  to  require  as  a  foundation  for  his  inferred 
beliefs  no  immediate  knowledge  but  that  which  the 
mind  has  of  its  own  states.  I  admit  the  fact,  but  I 
deny  that  it  is  any  defence.  It  relieves  him,  no 
doubt,  from  the  charge  of  practically  committing  the 
logical  error  pointed  out  in  my  third  objection,  but 
at  the  cost  of  falling  into  one  of  greater  magnitude 
still.  He  cannot  be  accused  of  founding  his  creed 
on  judgments  proved  by  the  psychological  method 
to  be  original,  and  therefore  true,  simply  because 
the  psychological  method,  in  his  opinion,  showed 
that  no  judgments  are  original.  His  philosophy  of 
ultimate  beliefs,  therefore,  was  not  only  unsound,  but 
if  sound  it  would  have  been  useless.  My  complaint 
against  him,  however,  does  not  end  there.  That 
the  philosophy  which  he  speculatively  maintained 
should  be  incapable  of  solving  the  problems  which 
most  press  for  solution  is  bad,  but  it  is  worse  that 
the  philosophy  to  which  he  adhered  in  practice  should 
ignore  the  very  existence  of  these  problems.  And 
here  I  think  Sir  William  Hamilton  is  greatly  his 
superior.  The  Common  Sense  Philosophy,  whatever 
be  its  shortcomings,  and  they  are  many,  was  at  all 
events  constructed  with  a  view  to  our  actual  necessi- 
ties. It  recognised,  in  a  more  or  less  confused 
manner,  the  fact  that  most  of  the  judgments  whose 
truth  we  habitually  assume  are  not  beyond  the  reach 
of  scepticism  ;   that  some  sort  of  proof  for  them  is 


CHAP.  VIII.]   AUTHORITY  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS,  &c.     177 

therefore  required,  and  that  none  of  the  usual  proofs 
from  experience  are  sound.  The  hypothesis  of  a 
consciousness  whose  veracity  is  in  some  way  in- 
volved in  that  of  the  Deity,  and  which  shall  give  its 
testimony  in  their  favour,  is  not  one  perhaps  very 
well  calculated  to  stand  hostile  criticism,  but  at  any 
rate,  if  true,  it  would  go  some  way  towards  solving 
the  difficulty.  To  the  psychological  school,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  hardly  seems  to  have  occurred  that 
there  was  a  difficulty  to  be  solved.  Their  psycho^ 
logy  so  overshadows  their  philosophy  that  when 
they  have  once  discovered  to  their  satisfaction  how 
a  thing  came  to  be  believed,  they  seem  comparatively 
indifferent  as  to  the  more  important  questions  of  how 
far,  and  why,  it  ought  to  be  believed.  If  only  they 
can  apply  the  '  approved  methods  of  physical  science' 
to  the  discovery  of  the  genesis  of  mental  phenomena, 
they  take  a  very  optimistic  view  of  the  difficulties 
which  attach  to  the  proof  of  the  principles  on  which 
the  legitimate  application  of  the  *  approved  methods  * 
must  finally  depend.  One  example  of  their  easy 
acceptance  of  insufficient  proof  I  have  already  dis- 
cussed when  I  was  dealing  with  the  law  of  Universal 
Causation.  A  still  more  remarkable  case  of  ignoring 
difficulties  remains  to  be  treated  of  in  the  criticism 
which  follows  on  the  psychological  theory  of  the 
external  world. 


N 


178    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

PSYCHOLOGICAL  IDEALISM.      ~ 

Berkeleian  Idealism  is  of  all  speculative  theories 
concerning  the  external  world  the  one  which,  per- 
haps, most  quickly  and  easily  commends  itself  to  the 
philosophic  enquirer.  The  greater  number  of  persons 
who  dabble  in  such  subjects  have  been  idealists  at 
one  period  of  their  lives  if  they  have  not  remained 
so  ;  and  many  more,  who  would  not  call  themselves 
idealists,  are  nevertheless  of  opinion  that  though  the 
existence  of  matter  is  a  thing  to  be  believed  in,  it 
is  not  a  thing  which  it  is  possible  to  prove.  The 
causes  of  this  popularity  are,  no  doubt,  in  part,  the 
extreme  simplicity  of  the  reasoning  on  which  the 
theory  rests,  in  part  its  extreme  plausibility,  in  part, 
perhaps,  the  nature  of  the  result  which  is  commonly 
thought  to  be  speculatively  interesting  without  being 
practically  inconvenient.  For  it  has  to  be  observed, 
that  the  true  idealist  is  not  necessarily  of  opinion 
that  his  system,  properly  understood,  in  any  way 
contradicts  common  sense.  It  destroys,  no  doubt,  a 
belief  in  substance ;  but  then  substance  is  a  meta- 
physical phantom  conjured  up  by  a  vain  philosophy  : 


CHAP.  IX.]  PSYCHOLOGICAL  IDEALISM.  179 

(- 

the  Matter  of  ordinary  life  it  supposes  itself  to  leave 
untouched.  *  That  the  things  I  see  with  my  eyes 
and  touch  with  my  hands  do  exist,  really  exist,  I 
make  not  the  least  question.  The  only  thing  whose 
existence  we  deny  is  that  which  philosophers  call 
Matter,  or  corporeal  substance.  And  in  doing  of 
this  there  is  no  damage  done  to  the  rest  of  mankind, 
who,  I  daresay,  will  never  miss  it.'  ^  '  I  affirm,  with 
confidence,'  says  Mr.  Mill,  'that  this  conception 
(i.e.,  the  idealistic  one)  of  matter  includes  the  whole 
meaning  attached  to  it  by  the  common  world,  apart 
from  philosophical  and  sometimes  from  theological, 
theories.''^ 

But  though  idealist  philosophers  have  said  this, 
the  world  has  never  believed  them.  Plain  men  have 
continued  to  think  that  something  more  is  in  question 
than  a  metaphysical  invention,  about  which  they 
neither  know  nor  care  anything  ;  and  that  in  losing 
substance  they  would  lose  something  essential  to 
their  idea  of  the  scheme  of  the  universe. 

This  is  an  opinion  which  I  also  share  ;  and  it  is 
to  Idealism  considered  from  this  point  of  view,  and 
this  point  of  view  alone,  that  I  wish  to  direct  the 
reader's  attention  in  this  chapter.  There  are,  there- 
fore, at  least,  two  important  controversies  connected 
with  this  theory  which  I  shall  not  discuss,  I  shall 
not  discuss  either  the  real  nature  of  the  object  of 

^  Berkeley,  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge^  Part  i.  §  35. 
2  Examination  of  Hamilton^  p.  227, 
N  Z 


i8o     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

perception,  which  is  what  especially  occupied  Berke- 
ley, nor  the  psychological  account  of  the  origin  of 
our  belief  in  matter,  which  is  what  especially 
interested  Mr.  Mill.  I  am  prepared,  for  the  sake  of 
argument,  to  assume,  with  the  former,  that  we  know 
and  can  know  directly  only  our  own  ideas  and  sen- 
sations,^ and  with  the  latter  that  any  belief  in  the 
existence  of  an  external  reality  which  is  neither  a 
sensation  nor  a  possibility  of  sensation,  is  the  product 
of  the  laws  of  the  association  of  ideas.  There  is  also 
a  third  subject  which  I  shall  absolve  myself  from 
dealing  with — I  mean  the  constructive  side  of  Ber- 
keley's philosophy.  As  is  well  known,  he  replaced 
the  material  world  by  the  Divine  Mind  ;  and  found 
in  this  the  permanent  substance  which  ordinary  men 
sought  for  in  matter.  But  though  this  theory  is  as 
good  as  many  which  have  succeeded  it,  yet  it  does 
not  fulfil  the  conditions  which  limit  the  discussions 
in  this  essay  :  it  has  had  no  appreciable  influence  on 
the  current  of  modern  English  speculation.  I  shall, 
therefore,  put  this  on  one  side,  and  shall  confine  my 
criticisms  to  the  Idealistic  Theory,  on  what  may  be 
called  its  negative  or  destructive  side. 

The  thesis  I  wish  to  maintain  is  a  very  simple 
one,  and  it  is  this  : — Received  science  cannot  be  true 
if  the  idealistic  account  of  the  universe  be  accurate  : 
nor  is  the  discrepancy  between  the  two  merely 
verbal ;  it  is  fundamental  and  essential,  and  can  be 

*  Berkeley  usually  describes  them  both  as  '  ideas.' 


CHAP.  IX.]         PSYCHOLOGICAL  IDEALISM.  i8i 

bridged  over  by  no  mere  artifices  of  terminology. 
That  there  is  a  verbal  discrepancy  requires,  I  imagine, 
no  proof.  Natural  science  (of  which  alone  I  am  here 
speaking)  assumes  the  Independent  existence  of 
matter  In  all  its  utterances.  A  theory  which  denies 
this  independent  existence  Is  undoubtedly  therefore 
In />rimd /acze contrdidiction  with  Natural  science  ;  and 
the  question  we  have  to  determine  Is,  whether  under 
this  superficial  contradiction  there  is  or  Is  not  a  real 
and  substantial  harmony.  Now  we  must  beware  of 
confounding  with  this  question  another  with  which  it  is 
liable  to  be  mixed  up — namely,  whether  Idealism  is 
or  is  not  consistent  with  our  ordinary  experience. 
If  we  admit  the  legitimacy  of  the  Ideal  psychology — 
if  we  admit  that  objects  as  perceived  may  be  resolved 
into  ideas  or  sensations,  there  is  no  doubt  that  this 
last  question  must  be  answered  In  the  affirmative. 
That  is,  we  may  suppose  Idealism  to  be  true  without 
being  obliged  to  suppose  that  we  should  either  see, 
hear,  or  feel  under  any  circumstances  what  we  should 
not  see,  hear,  or  feel  if  independent  matter  existed. 

Supposing,  therefore,  that  Science  consisted  in 
nothing  more  than  a  series  of  propositions  asserting 
what,  under  given  conditions,  our  experience  would 
be,  there  might  be  no  fundamental  discord  between 
it  and  Idealism.  If,  for  example,  as  Berkeley  de- 
clares,^ '  the  question  whether  the  earth  moves  or 
no,  amounts  In  reality  to  no  more  than  this  to  wit, 

^  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge^  §  58. 


i82     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

"  whether  we  have  reason  to  conclude  from  what  has 
been  observed  by  astronomers,  that  if  we  were  placed 
in  such  and  such  a  position  and  distance  both  from 
the  earth  and  sun  we  should  perceive  the  former  to 
move/' '  &c.,  no  doubt  astronomy  and  the  theory 
under  discussion  might  easily  be  harmonised.  But 
in  truth  Science  does  much  more  than  this.  It  tells 
us  not  only  what  we  should  perceive  if  we  were 
rightly  circumstanced  to  perceive  it,  but  also  how  it 
comes  about  that  we  should  perceive  that  particular 
thing  and  no  other,  and  what  it  is  that  would  hap- 
pen or  has  happened  whether  we  or  anybody  else 
were  there  to  perceive  it  or  not.  It  tells  us  that 
perceiving  organisms  were  evolved  from  a  world 
which  was  itself  neither  perceiving  nor  perceived,  and 
that  processes  take  place  within  that  world  which, 
like  the  elements  of  which  it  is  composed,  are  too 
subtle  to  be  apprehended  by  sense,  or  even,  in  some 
cases,  to  be  represented  in  imagination.  In  short,  it 
asserts  the  existence  of  a  vast  machinery,  composed 
of  that  *  inert,  senseless,  extended,  solid,  figured, 
moveable  substance  existing  without  the  mind,' which 
Berkeley  declares  ^  to  be  a  contradiction  in  terms, 
and  which  causes,  among  an  infinite  number  of  other 
effects,  our  perception  of  itself. 

If  this  be  not  in  direct  irreconcilable  contradiction 
with  a  theory  which  asserts  the  existence  of  no 
causes  besides  spirits  and  no  effects  besides  ideas, 

*  Principles  of  Human  K7tow ledge,  §  67. 


CHAP.  IX.]  PSYCHOLOGICAL  IDEALISM.  183 

then  such  a  thing  as  contradiction  does  not  exist  in 
the  world.  But  if  (which  I  hardly  think)  any  reader 
is  still  unconvinced  on  this  point,  let  him  try  to  state 
the  doctrine  of  Evolution  in  ideal  language — with- 
out of  course  postulating  the  Deity,  whom  Berkeley 
would  have  introduced  to  save  the  situation.  The 
attempt  will,  I  think,  leave  no  doubt  on  his  mind 
that  Mr.  Spencer  is  right  when  he  declares  that  *  if 
Idealism  be  true.  Evolution '  (for  Evolution  we  may 
read  Science)  '  is  a  dream.* 

Perhaps  It  will  be  objected  that  In  these  remarks 
I  have  only  dealt  with  Psychological  Idealism  in  the 
form  In  which  Berkeley  left  it ;  and  that  I  have  not 
done  justice  to  It  even  in  this  shape,  since  I  have 
omitted  to  consider  all  the  constructive  part  which, 
though  It  has  received  little  attention  subsequently, 
Its  originator  considered  essential  to  his  scheme.  I 
am  quite  prepared  to  admit  that  there  Is  some  force 
In  these  criticisms,  and  also  that  Berkeley's  version 
of  the  system  Is  the  less  likely  to  be  In  harmony 
with  Science,  from  the  fact  that  he  seems  to  have 
regarded  the  scientific  hypothesis  of  his  own 
day — the  *  corpuscular  philosophy '  and  '  the  me- 
chanical principles  which  have  been  applied  to 
accounting  for  phenomena,' — with  a  very  lukewarm 
approval.^  Let  us  turn  then  to  Mr.  Mill,  who 
is  above  all  things  the  philosopher  of  men  of 
science,  and  observe  whether  his  statement  of  the 

1  Principles  of  Hjiman  Knowledge ^  §  50. 


1 84    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  il- 

case  is  more  agreeable  to  ordinary  science  than  that 
of  his  theological  predecessor.  At  first  sight  there 
seems  a  promise  of  reconciliation  in  his  language,  for 
verbally  at  least,  he  recognises  the  existence  of  a 
permanent  something  which  may  serve  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  matten  The  external  world  which  is 
dealt  with  by  natural  science  consisted,  according  to 
Berkeley,  in  ideas.  According  to  Mr.  Mill  it  con- 
sists of  sensations  and  permanent  possibilities  of  sen- 
sation.^ An  object  when  it  is  perceived  may  be 
resolved  into  sensations  phis  permanent  possibilities 
of  sensation  ;  an  object  when  it  is  not  perceived  may 
be  resolved  into  permanent  possibilities  of  sensation 
alone. 

What  sensations  mean  is  tolerably  plain,  whether 
the  partial  resolution  of  a  perceived  object  into  them 
be  legitimate  or  not  But  what  are  possibilities  of 
sensation  ?  And  in  what  sense  can  they  be  per- 
manent ?  Mr.  Mill  habitually  speaks  of  them  as  if 
they  could  exist  in  the  same  sense  in  which  positive 
entities  exist.  But  this  surely  is  an  entire  delusion. 
A  possibiHty  is  nothing  till  it  becomes  an  actuality. 
It  will  be  something,  or  it  may  be  something  at  some 
future  time,  but,  until  then,  it  is  nothing.  You  may 
verbally  indeed  give  a  kind  of  present  being  to  a 
future  sensation  by  saying  that  the  possibility  of  it 
exists  now.  But  there  is  no  reality  in  nature  corre- 
sponding to  this  phrase.     A  sensation  must  either  be 

*  Examination  of  Hamilton^  p.  248. 


CHAP.  IX.  PSYCHOLOGICAL  IDEALISM.  185 

or  not  be ;  and  if  it  is  only  a  possibility,  it  certainly 
is  not.  A  universe  therefore  which  consists  of  such 
possibilities  is  a  universe  which  for  the  present  does 
not  exist  at  all  ;  it  is  a  verbal  fiction,  and  cannot 
form  the  subject-matter  of  any  science  deserving  the 
name. 

Mr.  O'Hanlon,  whose  criticism  on  Mill,  unfortu- 
nately, I  only  know  from  the  note  in  Mill's  *  Exami- 
nation,' from  which  the  following  extract  is  taken, 
states  the  difficulty  in  these  terms  :  '  Your  per- 
manent possibilities  of  sensation  are,  so  long  as  they 
are  not  felt,  nothing  actual.  Yet  you  speak  of  change 
taking  place  in  them,  and  that  independently  of 
our  consciousness '  ;  ^  and  it  is  evident,  though  this 
Mr.  O'Hanlon  does  not  add,  that  unless  change 
in  something  outside  consciousness  be  possible, 
science,  as  we  know  it,  cannot  exist.  How  does 
Mr.  Mill  meet  this  objection  ?  He  refers  '  his 
young  antagonist '  generally  to  what  is  said  on  the 
subject  in  the  text ;  from  which,  as  far  as  I  am 
able  to  judge,  the  following  quotation  may  be  most 
conveniently  selected  as  containing  the  essence  of 
what  Mr.  Mill  would  have  us  understand  to  be 
his  answer.  '  If  body  altogether  is  only  conceived 
as  a  power  of  exciting  sensations,  the  action  of  one 
body  upon  another  is  simply  the  modification  by  one 
such  power  of  the  sensations  excited  by  another  ;  or, 
to  use  a  different  expression,  the  joint  action  of  two 

^  Examination  of  Hamilton,  p.  251,  note. 


i86     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ix. 

powers  of  exciting  sensations.     It  is  easy  for  anyone 
competent  to   such    enquiries   who   will    make   the 
attempt,    to   understand   how   one  group  of  possi- 
bilities of  sensation  can  be  conceived  as  destroying 
or  modifying  another  such  group.'     Undoubtedly  it 
is  easy  to  understand  this,  if  by  possibility  of  sen- 
sation is  meant  (as  the  first  sentence  in  the  above 
extract  would  seem  to  show)  power  of  exciting  sen- 
sation.    But  if  Mr.  Mill  meant  this,  he  was  not  an 
idealist,  but  a  realist.     He    must    have   held    that 
besides  sensations  there  were  permanent  powers  of 
producing  sensations — inaccurately  described  as  per- 
manent possibilities  of  sensation — which  are  to   be 
distinguished,  if  they  are  to  be  distinguished  at  all, 
by  very  subtle  differences  from  the  '  substances '  of 
certain  metaphysicians.     As,  however,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  Mr.  Mill  considered  himself  an  idealist, 
we  must  suppose  that  he  adopted  this  realistic  theory 
only  under  the  pressure  of  an  immediate  objection  ; 
and  that  in  his  ordinary  moments  he  conceived  that 
the  '  permanence '  of  a  possibility  might  satisfy  the 
requirements  of  Science  since  it  was  a  permanence, 
and  the  requirements  of  Idealism  since  it  was  only 
the  permanence  of  a  possibility.     Let  us  look  a  little 
more  into  this  matter. 

If  we  say  that  a  barrel  of  gunpowder  constitutes 
the  permanent  possibility  of  an  explosion,  what  do 
we  mean  ?  We  mean  that  in  a  barrel  of  gunpowder 
we  find  a  large  number  of  the  conditions  of  an  explo- 


CHAP.  IX.  PSYCHOLOGICAL  IDEALISM.  187 

slon  in  a  permanent  form,  and  that  the  other  con- 
ditions necessary  to  that  effect  may  at  any  moment 
be  supplied.  It  is  perfectly  accurate  to  talk  of  a 
permanent  possibility  of  sensation  in  the  same  sense  ; 
as  equivalent,  that  is,  to  a  set  of  permanent  causes  of 
sensation  by  which,  when  they  are  properly  supple- 
mented by  causes  which  are  not  permanent,  but  only 
occasional,  a  sensation  will  actually  be  produced. 
But  though  Scieruce  may  be  consistent  with  a  belief  in 
a  world  composed  of  such  possibilities,  the  teaching 
of  Idealism  certainly  is  not. 

Again,  the  permanence  attributed  to  the  possibi- 
lities of  sensation  might  be  a  permanence — not  of  the 
conditions  by  which  sensations  are  produced  but — 
of  the  laws  which  regulate  their  production.  If  we 
conceive  a  being  whose  states  of  mind  at  successive 
moments  should  occur  strictly  in  accordance  with  law, 
but  with  law  acting  only  between  his  states  of  mind, 
we  might,  perhaps,  say  (though  the  expression  would 
not  be  a  happy  one)  that  a  given  law  constitutes  a 
*  permanent  possibility'  of  his  having  a  particular 
sensation.  But  a  theory,  which  should  admit  the  exist- 
ence of  nothing  permanent  except  in  this  sense,  though 
it  would  be  entirely  consistent  with  Idealism,  would 
unfortunately  be  altogether  at  variance  with  Science. 

'  For  any  statement,'  says  Mr.  Mill,^  *  which  can 
be  made  concerning  material  phenomena  in  terms  of 
the  Realistic  theory,  there  is  an  equivalent  meaning 

^  Examinatio7i  of  Hamiltoji,  p.  246. 


i88    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  u. 

in  terms  of  sensation  and  possibilities  of  sensation.' 
Let  us  see  how  this  is.  Here  is  a  proposition  which 
may  prove  convenient  for  purposes  of  illustration  : — 
'  The  candle  at  which  I  am  looking  produces  in  me 
certain  sensations  of  light,  colour,  and  shape.'  ^  Stated 
in  terms  of  the  Psychological  Theory  this  proposition 
would  run  : — '  The  group  of  sensation  and  of  perma- 
nent possibilities  of  sensation  known  as  a  candle  pro- 
duce in  me  certain  sensations  of  light,  &c.'  Now  the 
candle,  which  is  here  asserted  to  be  a  cause,  is,  like 
other  perceived  objects,  constituted  (on  the  Psycho- 
logical hypothesis)  by  two  elements — viz.  sensations 
and  possibilities  of  sensation.  Are  both  of  these 
necessary  to  produce  the  effect  ?  Certainly  not. 
One  of  them  zs  the  effect.  The  sensations  which 
the  candle  produces  are  part  of  the  candle.  What 
produces  the  sensations  must,  therefore,  be  the  other 
part  of  the  cause — namely,  the  possibilities  of  sensa- 
tion. But  the  possibilities  of  sensation  are,  ipso  facto, 
not  in  my  consciousness,  and  (to  avoid  side  issues)  we 
may  suppose  them  not  to  be  in  anybody  else's  either. 
So  that,  though  starting  from  a  proposition  professedly 
idealistic  in  its  terms,  we  are  forced  to  conclude  that 
the  cause  of  my  sensation  of  colour,  &c.,  is  something 
out  of,  and  independent  of  consciousness  ! 

This  may  be  true,  but,  again,  I  must  point  out 
that  it  is  not  Idealism.     On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  kind 

^  Of  course  I  am  not  responsible  for  the  psychology  which  renders 
spch  an  expression  as  '  sensation  of  shape '  permissible. 


CHAP.  IX. }^  PSYCHOLOGICAL  IDEALISM.  189 

of  Transfigured    Realism    (as   Mr.   Spencer  would 
say),  of  a  particularly  absurd  type.     For  we  might 
imagine  a  being  so  endowed  that  he  could  perceive 
at  one    moment  every  quality  of  the  candle,  which 
would  in  that  case,  it  is  evident,  consist  entirely  of 
sensations  ;  the  possibilities  of  sensation  being  all  con- 
verted into  actualities.     He  might  also  perceive  all 
the  physiological  changes  which  are  the  necessary 
antecedents  of  these  sensations,  and  which  would 
thereby  in  the  same  way  become  sensations  them- 
selves.    Now  it  would  clearly  be  erroneous  to  say  of 
such  a  being  that  the  immediate  causes  of  the  sensa- 
tions which  constitute  his  perception  of  the  candle 
were  permanent  possibilities  of  sensation  (since  by 
hypothesis    the   possibilities  are  all  converted  into 
actualities)  ;  and  it  would  clearly  be  absurd  to  say  that 
these  sensations  were  self  caused ;  and  it  would  be 
altogether  impossible  to  say  that  they  were  not  caused 
at  all.     What  fourth  reply  could  be  given  on  any 
theory  which  was  both  idealistic  and  scientific  I  am 
unable  to  imagine.     So  that  we  come  to  this  final 
result :  that  if  we  take  a  plain  scientific  proposition 
asserting  the  action  of  external  bodies,  or  what  are 
commonly  thought  to  be-  such,  on  mind,  we  can,  in 
the  first  place,  only  express  it  in  terms  of  possibilities 
of  sensation  by  attributing  to  these  a  realistic  significa- 
tion ;  and  in  the  second  place  if,  as  we  have  a  perfect 
right  to  do,  we  conceive  such  possibilities  of  sensation 
all  converted  into  actualities,  we  cannot  express  the 
proposition  in  terms  of  the  psychological  theory  at  all. 


190    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

*  But,'  the  reader  may,  perhaps,  be  Indined  to 
say,  *  these  difficulties  are  just  what  might  have  been 
expected.     The  various  renderings  of  the   original 
proposition    are   all  absurd,    because   that    proposi- 
tion was  an  absurd  one  to  start  with.'     Extremely 
absurd  I  admit,  if  Idealism  be  true ;  but  not  at  all 
absurd,  if  Science  be  so.    And  that  is  just  the  point. 
Science  cannot  get  on  for  an  hour  unless  it  be  allowed 
to  employ  propositions  of  this  kind,  which  assert  the 
action  of  some  x  upon  the  mind.     Idealism,  in  the, 
hands  of  a  true  follower  of  Berkeley,  would  either 
deny  the  existence  of  the  x,  or  would  identify  it  with 
the  Divine  Spirit ;  and  in  both  cases  would  make 
received  Science  impossible.    Natural  Realism  again 
would  identify  the  x  both  with  the  immediate  object 
of  perception  and  with  independent  and  extended 
matter,  and,  like  all  other  realistic  systems,  would 
present,  at  any  rate,  an  appearance  of  harmony  with 
Scientific  doctrine.     But  when  we  ask  the  Psycho- 
logical school   how  they  deal  with    the  x,  we  can 
extract  from  their  teaching  nothing  but  confusion. 
They  give  us  to  understand  that  they  are  idealists, 
that  in  their  opinion  the  world  consists  of  nothing 
besides  sensations  and  possibilities  of  sensation  ;  and 
we  readily  accept  this  as  the  true  idealistic  identifica- 
tion of  the  real  with  the  felt.     But  on  asking  how 
this  identification  is  consistent  with  a  science  which 
nominally  at  least  postulates  a  world  independent  of 
mind,  we  find  that  they  are  forced  to  convert  their 


CHAP.  IX.]  PSYCHOLOGICAL  IDEALISM.  191 

possibilities  into  objects  which  exist  without  being 
perceived,  which  can  act  as  causes,  which  can  suffer 
change,  and  which  are  therefore  as  Httle  ideal  as  the 
most  vehement  realist  need  desire. 

'But  how,'  it  may  be  asked,  *  if  there  is  this  radical 
discrepancy  between  Idealism  and  Science,  happens 
it  that  so  many  philosophers  have  accepted  the  first, 
and  yet  have  never  cast  speculative  doubts  upon  the 
second  ?     How    do  you   account  for  the  fact  that 
neither  Berkeley  nor  Mill  (to  go  no  further)  ever 
detected    a    difficulty  which,  if  it   exists   at    all,  is 
sufficiently  obvious  ? '    One  reason  of  this  oversight  I 
take  to  be  that  Idealists  have  occupied  themselves 
more  with  showing  that  their  particular  system  was 
consistent  with  ordinary  experience  than  that  it  was 
consistent   with   the   more    remote    conclusions    of 
Science.     The  sort  of  objection  which  they  chiefly 
anticipated,  and  with  reason,  was  that  of  the  persons 
who   thought  that   a   disbelief  in  matter  ought  to 
take  the  form  of  running  up  against  posts  or  tumbling 
into  the  water;  and  so  much  of  this  objection  de- 
pends on  a  gross   misconception,  that  the  grain  of 
truth  which  lies  hid  in  it  is  easily  overlooked. 

I  have  already  pointed  out  two  further  reasons 
which,  in  the  case  of  Berkeley,  go  far  towards 
accounting  for  his  insensibility  to  a  difficulty  with 
which  he  several  times  formally  professes  to  deal. 
The  first  is,  that  his  scientific  beliefs  were  certainly 
lukewarm,  and  probably  heterodox;  the  second  Is, 


192     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

that  his  theology  supplied  the  basis  of  a  possible, 
though  not  of  any  actual,  science  of  phenomena,  by 
providing  a  permanent  thinking  substance  in  place 
of  the  matter  which  he  destroyed.  In  Mr.  Mill's 
case  neither  of  these  reasons  hold  good.  His  scien- 
tific faith  was  fervent  and  orthodox  ;  while  it  is 
generally  understood  that  his  theological  creed,  what- 
ever may  have  been  its  precise  nature,  did  not  at  all 
events  include  a  belief  in  an  Infinite  Mind  who  should 
be  the  immediate  cause  of  all  our  sensations. 

Mr.  Mill,  however,  had  sources  of  error  peculiar 
to  himself.  As  I  stated  in  the  last  chapter,  one  of 
the  disturbing  elements  in  his  philosophy,  which  no 
doubt  largely  affected  his  views  on  this  particular 
subject,  was  the  overpowering  interest  he  took  in  the 
genesis  of  a  belief  to  the  exclusion  of  a  thorough 
examination  into  its  truth.  Thus  the  main  part  of 
the  space  devoted  (in  his  '  Examination  of  Hamil- 
ton') to  the  Psychological  theory  of  the  external 
world  is  occupied,  not  with  discussing  the  general 
philosophic  ground  and  bearings  of  Idealism,  but 
in  showing  how  a  belief  in  matter  originally  came 
into  existence.  But,  besides  this  more  general  cause 
of  error,  there  was  another  special  to  this  question 
which  Mr.  Mill  should  not  have  fallen  into,  since  it- 
is  one  of  a  kind  he  was  particularly  fond  of  preaching 
against — I  mean  the  error  of  supposing  that  because 
there  exists  in  language  a  name,  that  therefore  there 
must  exist  in  Nature  something  corresponding  to  the 


CHAP.  IX.]  PSYCHOLOGICAL  IDEALISM.  193 

name.  Because  it  is  allowable  to  speak  of  a  '  per- 
manent possibility,'  he  permitted  himself  too  easily 
to  think  that  a  world  consisting  of  possibilities  of 
sensation  and  these  alone,  could  in  any  real  sense  be 
permanent,  or,  as  I  should  prefer  to  say,  persistent. 
That  this  is  not  so  has  been  sufficiently  shown,  I 
hope,  in  the  preceding  pages.  It,  therefore,  only 
remains  for  those  who  accept  Idealism  as  the  one 
possible  theory  of  the  material  world  consistent  with 
Psychological  analysis,  to  choose  between  the  results 
•of  Internal  and  those  of  External  observation  on 
the  one  hand,  or  on  the  other  boldly  to  adopt  a  creed 
which  is  avowedly  inconsistent  with  itself. 

In  the  next  two  chapters  I  shall  examine,  so  far 
as  it  is  necessary  for  my  purpose,  the  philosophy  of 
a  thinker,  who  though  in  a  popular  discourse  he  is 
frequently  associated  w^th  Mr.  Mill  on  the  points 
with  which  I  am  concerned,  resembles  him  but  little 
in  his  teaching. 


194    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

UNIVERSITY 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE   TEST  OF  INCONCEIVABILITY. 

Mr.  Spencer's  theory  of  the  grounds  of  belief,  like 
that  of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  is  intimately  bound  up 
with,  and  seems  chiefly  constructed  with  a  view  to 
the  proof  of,  the  reality  of  the  external  world.  For 
the  moment,  however,  I  shall  deal  with  It  separately, 
reserving  till  the  next  section  any  reflections  which 
may. be  suggested  by  the  use  he  has  put  it  to  in 
supporting  the  doctrine  of  what  he  calls,  not  inap- 
propriately, '  Transfigured  Realism.' 

Sir  William  Hamilton,  as  we  have  seen,  accepts 
his  initial  assumptions  on  t^ie  authority  of  Conscious- 
ness. Mr.  Mill  again  expresses  his  readiness  to 
accept  any  belief  which  can  be  shown  to  have  been 
*  in  Consciousness  from  the  beginning  ' ;  though  until 
that  (in  his  opinion  apparently)  improbable  event 
occurs,  is  content  to  base  his  creed  on  the  immediate 
knowledge  the  mind  has  of  its  own  states ;  and  In 
practice,  therefore,  is  truly  an  empiricist.  But  Mr. 
Spencer,  though  anxious  that  It  should  be  understood 
that  he  defends  his  doctrine  In  the  interests  of  the 
experience  hypothesis,^  can   hardly  be  described  as 

*  Principles  of  Psychology^  vol.  ii.  p.  407,  note. 


CHAP.  X.]      THE  TEST  OF  INCONCEIVABILITY.  195 

an  empiricist  in  any  but  an  esoteric  signification  of 
the  word  ;  since  even  for  facts  given  in  experience 
he  requires  a  warrant,  which  must  be  more  certain 
than  they  are,  because  it  is  the  test  by  which  their 
certainty  is  recognised. 

All  propositions  are  to  be  accepted  as^unque 
tionable  whose  negative  is  inconceivable.^  Such,  in 
one  sentence,  is  Mr.  Spencers  doctrine  ;  but  the 
sentence,  though  apparently  simple,  is  capable  of 
more  than  one  interpretation,  and  points  to  more 
than  one  possible  system  of  philosophy.  *  Inconceiv- 
able,'to  begin  with,  is  commonly,  though  in  my  opinion 
very  improperly,  used  in  two  quite  distinct  senses. 
It  may  mean  either  that  which  cannot  be  believed, 
or  that  which  cannot  be  imagined.  Mr.  Spencer^ 
protests  against  the  idea  that  he  uses  it  in  the  first 
or  improper  sense  ;  and,  if  I  understand  him  rightly, 
he  habitually  uses  it  in  the  second  and  correct  one. 
But  as  the  point  is  somewhat  important,  I  must  be 
permitted  to  give  one  or  two  of  the  quotations  on 
which  this  opinion  is  based. 

*  An  inconceivable  proposition  is  one  of  which 
the  terms  cannot  by  any  effort  be  brought  into  con- 
sciousness in  that  relation  which  the  proposition 
asserts  between  them.'  ^  It  is  one  of  which  *  the 
subject  and  predicate  cannot  be  united  in  the  same 
intuition.'  *     And  as  an  example,    '  the  two  sides  (of 

^  Principles  of  Psychology^  vol.  ii.  p.  392.  '^  Ibid.  p.  407. 

3  p^  408.  -^  Ibid. 

O  2 


196     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 


a  triangle)  cannot  be  represented  in  consciousness  as 
becoming  equal  in  their  joint  length  to  the  third 
side,  without  the  representation  of  a  triangle  being 
destroyed.'  These  quotations,  which  might  easily 
be  multiplied,  would  seem  to  make  it  perfectly  clear 
that  when  Mr.  Spencer  says  a  thing  cannot  be  con- 
ceived, he  means  that  it  cannot  be  imagined  or  re- 
presented in  the  mind  ;  indeed  the  world  '  imagine  ' 
is  one  which  he  actually  uses  in  this  connection.^ 
On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  admitted  that  he 
never  ^  hesitates  to  use  '  inconceivable '  and  '  unthink- 
able' as  synonymes  ;  so  that,  if  I  interpret  him  rightly, 
'unthinkable'  and  'unimaginable'  must  with  him 
be  also  synonymes,  which  is  not  in  accordance  with 
the  best  philosophical  usage.  Again,  he  quotes, 
in  order  to  answer,  the  hackneyed  instance  of  the 
inconceivability  of  the  antipodes — as  if  he  thought 
that  the  antipodes  had  once  been  inconceivable  in 
his  sense  of  the  word.  But  it  is  certain,  I  appre- 
hend, that  the  antipodes  were  never  unimaginable, 
though  they  were,  or  are  said  to  have  been,  incre- 
dible. The  difficulty  can  scarcely  have  been  to 
represent  men  standing  head  downwards,  though  it 
might  have  been  to  believe  that,  when  so  standing, 
they  would  not  fall  off.^     Mr.  Spencer's  use  of  the 

*  Fortnightly  Review,  p.  544. 

*  Principles  of  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  409. 

*  Mr.  Mill  is  not  fortunate  in  his  language  on  this  point  ;  though  I 
am  inclined  to  think  he  held  the  right  view.  See  Exam,  of  Hamilton, 
pp.  81,  86. 


CHAP.  X.]       THE  TEST  OF  INCONCEIVABILITY.  igf 

word  '  inconceivable  '  is  not  then,  in  spite  of  all  his 
explanations,  perfectly  unambiguous  ;  but  neverthe- 
less we  may  say  with  certainty  that  the  word  with 
him  refers  to  some  mental  incapacity  which  (he 
asserts)  is  not  an  incapacity  of  belief,  and  with  a 
high  degree  of  probability,  that  it  is  an  incapacity  of 
imagination  or  representation. 

After  this  explanation,  let  us  return  to  the 
doctrine  under  discussion,  which  states,  it  will  be 
recollected,  that  all  judgments  the  negative  of  which 
is  inconceivable  are  to  be  accepted  as  true.  Now, 
according  to  this  theory,  Is  the  inconceivability  of  its 
negative  the  ground  on  which  any  proposition  ought 
to  be  accepted,  or  is  it  simply  an  attribute  which 
in  fact  belongs  to  self-evident  propositions  and  to 
no  others  ?  Is  it  a  reason,  or  is  it  merely  a  mark  ? 
It  will  be  observed  that  the  whole  nature  of  Mr. 
Spencer's  philosophy  must  entirely  depend  on  which 
of  these  alternatives  he  selects  If  he  selects  the 
second,  then  it  would  only  remain  to  examine  all  the 
ultimate  propositions  on  which  his  creed  rests,  and 
to  observe  whether  it  is  true  that  the  negative  of 
each  one  of  them  is  inconceivable.  But  even  if  the 
result  of  this  examination  were  to  show  (as  I  appre- 
hend it  would  show)  that  the  negative  of  some  of 
them  might  be  conceived  with  the  utmost  facility, 
this  would  in  no  way  tend  to  invalidate  the  grounds 
on  which  the  remainder  of  his  creed  rests ;  it  would 
simply  show  that  those  grounds  had  been  wrongly 


198    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

described.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  selects  the  first 
alternative,  and  means  to  assert  that  the  inconceiva- 
bility of  their  negative  is  the  ultimate  reason  which 
is  to  be  given  for  all  his  beliefs,  then,  if  it  can  be 
shown  that  this  is  in  reality  no  reason,  the  beliefs 
themselves  must,  so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  be 
regarded  as  requiring  proof,  but  not  as  having  ob- 
tained it. 

There  are,  I  think,  some  phrases  used  by  Mr. 
Spencer,  especially  in  the  earlier  version  of  his 
argument,  which  might  lead  one  for  a  moment  to 
suppose  that  he  held  to  the  second  of  these  alterna- 
tives. Nevertheless,  I  shall  assume  that  the  first 
represents  his  real  opinion,  because  otherwise  it  is 
evident  that  his  Universal  Postulate  or  ultimate 
criterion  of  truth  could  never  be  brought  forward  as 
an  argument  at  all.  If  the  inconceivability  of  the 
opposite  is  merely  an  attribute  which  is  thought  to 
attach  itself  to  those  ultimate  beliefs  which  neither 
have  nor  require  proof,  the  discovery  of  its  absence 
in  certain  cases  will  aifect  no  belief  except  the  one 
which  asserted  its  universal  presence.  It  can,  there- 
fore, never  supply  an  ultimate  ground  of  conviction, 
and  sinks  into  a  fact  of  secondary  philosophic 
interest! 

We  must  credit  Mr.  Spencer  then  with  holding 
the  first  alternative,  which,  as  the  following  quota- 
tions may  serve  to  indicate,  undoubtedly  fits  in 
naturally  and  easily  with  his  habitual  language.     '  To 


CHAP.  X.]      THE  TEST  OF  INCONCEIVABILITY.  199 

assert,'  ^  he  says,  '  the  inconceivableness  of  the  ne- 
gative (of  a  cognition),  is  at  the  same  time  to  assert 
the  psychological  necessity  we  are  under  of  thinking 
it,  and  to  give  our  logical  justification  for  holding  it! 
Again, ^  '  How  do  we  know  that  it  is  impossible  for 
the  same  thing  to  be  and  not  to  be  ?  What  is  our 
criterion  of  this  impossibility  ?  Can  Sir  William 
Hamilton  assign  any  other  than  this  same  incon- 
ceivability ? ' 

Here,  it  will  be  observed,  we  have  a  general 
statement  of  the  theory,  with  a  particular  example 
of  its  application  ;  and  from  a  consideration  of  these 
and  of  other  passages,  too  long  to  quote,  it  would 
seem  that  Mr.  Spencer  regards  our  incapacity  to 
perform  a  certain  mental  act  as  the  ultimate  ground 
on  which  all  propositions,  even  those  asserting  truths 
commonly  thought  to  be  necessary,  are  finally  to  be 
accepted. 

This  mental  act,  I  have  already  given  reasons  for 
thinking,  is  one  of  imagination  or  representation  ; 
but  not  to  enter  into  unnecessary  controversy,  I  will 
describe  it  in  Mr.  Spencer's  own  words  as  consist- 
ing in  '  tearing^  asunder  states  of  consciousness.'  If 
this  operation  cannot  be  performed — if  the  states  of 
consciousness  persist  in  cohering,  in  spite  of  our 
efforts  to  disunite  them,  then,  according  to  Mr. 
Spencer,  we  have  not  only  the  highest  warrant  which 

^  Page  407,  the  italics  are  my  own.  ^  Page  425. 

'•"'  Fortnightly  Review,  p.  344. 


200     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

it  is  possible  to  attain  for  supposing  that  the  attri- 
butes represented  by  these  states  of  consciousness 
coexist  in  nature,  but  we  have  also  the  highest 
warrant  which,  constructed  as  we  are,  it  is  possible 
to  imagine/ 

If  this  be  so,  our  prospects  of  discovering  a 
satisfactory  philosophy  seem  small.  In  what  possible 
way  can  a  psychological  fact — whether  it  consists  in 
attempting  to  '  tear  asunder  states  of  consciousness,' 
or  in  anything  else — afford  a  satisfactory  warrant  for 
some  other  fact,  unless  we  first  take  for  granted 
a  very  large  number  of  propositions  for  which 
a  warrant  is  very  much  needed  ?  Why  should 
we  assume  this  pre-established  harmony  between 
the  '  subjective '  and  the  *  objective '  world  ?  Grant 
either  some  theological  postulate,  or  some  law  of 
inherited  aptitudes,  and  the  harmony  may  cease  to 
be  surprising ;  but  these  are  hypotheses  which  it  is 
needless  to  say  cannot  themselves  afford  a  warrant 
until  they  first  obtain  it.  Nor  is  this  all.  Not  only 
is  the  mental  incapacity  to  *  tear  asunder  states  of 
consciousness  '  no  '  logical  justification  '  for  holding 
a  belief,  but,  on  Mr.  Spencer's  own  principles,  a  belief 
in  the  incapacity  would  appear  to  require  a  '  logical 
justification'  itself  We  are  supposed  by  his  theory 
to  believe  that  '  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing 
to  be  and  not  to  be,'  ^  on  the  ground  that  we  cannot 
conceive  the  opposite.   But  how  do  we  know  that  we 

1  Psychology,  p.  425.  2  j^j^j 


CHAP.  X.]      THE  TEST  OF  INCONCEIVABILITY.  201 


cannot  conceive  the  opposite  ?  Is  this  a  beHef  which 
requires  a  warrant,  or  is  it  not  ?  If  it  is^  then  the 
warrant  must  be  that  we  cannot  conceive  that  we  can 
conceive  the  opposite  ;  and  as  this  belief  and  all  its 
successors  will  also  require  similar  warrants,  we  are 
committed  to  an  infinite  regress.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  not  a  belief  which  requires  a  warrant,  then 
I  desire  to  know  why  the  belief  that  '  it  is  impossible 
for  the  same  thing  to  be  and  not  to  be '  requires  one  ? 
I  am  quite  as  certain  that  it  is  impossible,  as  I  am 
that  I  cannot  conceive  it  to  be  possible ;  and  if  I  am 
not  expected  to  give  a  *  logical  justification  '  for  the 
second  of  these  beliefs,  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should 
be  expected  to  give  one  for  the  first. 

On  Mr.  Spencer's  own  principle,  indeed,  the 
mental  fact  that  we  cannot  conceive  the  opposite  of 
a  given  proposition,  in  the  only  case  in  which,  accord- 
ing to  him,  it  can  serve  as  a  final  ground  of  certainty, 
is  not  one  of  which  we  can  have  any  immediate 
knowledge.  Only,  it  appears,  when  the  proposition 
whose  opposite  is  inconceivable  happens  also  to  be 
undecomposable,^  can  we  say  with  assurance  that  it 
must  be  true.  So  that  before  applying  his  postulate 
to  the  proof  of  some  axiom  (say  '  that  things  which 
are  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  one  an- 
other '  '^)  we  have  to  convince  ourselves,  first,  that 
this  is  a  proposition  not  capable  of  further  decom- 
position ;  and,  secondly,  that  we  are  unable  to  con- 

^  Psychology,  p.  410.  ^  Ibid.  p.  411. 


202     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

ceive  its  opposite.  Surely  the  scepticism  which  is 
set  at  rest  by  such  arguments  as  these  must  be  of  a 
very  pecuHar  complexion  ;  for  it  must  doubt  that 
things  which  are  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal 
to  one  another,  and  be  certain  of  logical  and  psy- 
chological facts,  not  to  my  mind  very  easy  to  deter- 
mine, and  respecting  which,  by  Mr.  Spencer's  own 
account,  men  have  frequently  been  in  error. 

These  objections,  it  will  be  observed,  keep  their 
weight  whatever  the  nature  of  the  psychological  in- 
capacity may  be  which  Mr.  Spencer  describes  as  an 
'  inability  to  conceive  the  opposite '  of  a  proposition. 
Though  there  is,  as  I  before  hinted,  some  obscurity 
hanging  over  this  point,  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that,  at  all  events,  the  incapacity  is,  as  has  been 
hitherto  assumed,  one  of  imagination  or  representa- 
tion. What  seems  more  doubtful  is  whether  Mr. 
Spencer  does  not  suppose  it  to  be  this  and  at  the 
same  time  something  else  from  which  it  ought  care- 
fully to  be  distinguished.  Much  of  his  language 
suggests  the  idea  that,  in  his  opinion,  necessities  of 
imagination  are  not  merely  accompaniments  of,  or 
causes  of,  necessities  of  belief,  but  are  actually  the 
same  thing,  and  that  the  representation  of  the  attri- 
butes in  one  image  is  actually  identical  with  the  act 
of  believing  that  two  attributes  are  united  in  one 
object.  He  says,  for  instance,^  '  An  abortive  effort 
to  conceive  the  negation  of  a  proposition,  shows  that 

*  Psychology,  p.  425.     Italics  are  my  own.     Cf.  also  p.  402. 


CHAP,  xj      THE  TEST  OF  INCONCEIVABILITY.  203 

the  cognition  expressed  is  one  of  which  the  predicate 
invariably  exists  along  with  the  subject  [that  is,  I 
suppose,  shows  that  we  cannot  conceive  them  dis- 
united] ;  and  the  discovery  that  the  predicate  invari- 
ably exists  along  with  its  object  is  the  discovery  that 
this  cognition  is  one  we  are  compelled  to  accept!  And 
again,  in  the  very  act  of  distinguishing  between  in- 
conceivability and  incredibility  he  seems  to  suggest 
the  idea  that  they  differ  in  degree  and  not  in  kind.^ 
If  the  strange  psychological  doctrine  thus  adum- 
brated is  really  Mr.  Spencer's,  he  is  no  doubt 
justified  on  his  own  principles  in  asserting  that  any 
proposition  of  which  the  opposite  is  inconceivable 
must  be  believed,  because  inconceivable  with  him 
must  mean  not  only  that  which  is  unimaginable,  but 
also,  and  at  the  same  time,  that  which  is  absolutely 
and  in  the  extremest  degree  incredible.  In  truth, 
however,  his  philosophy  gains  nothing  by  a  confusion 
which  (if  it  be  his)  is  a  serious  blot  on  his  psycho- 
logy. The  statement  that  we  are  absolutely  incap- 
able of  believing  the  opposite  of  a  proposition  may 
carry  with  it  the  assurance  that  we  must  believe  it, 
for  in  reality  the  two  expressions  are  equivalent ;  but 
I  altogether  fail  to  see  how  it  can  show  us  that  we 
ought  to  believe  it.  I  doubt  myself,  indeed,  whether 
it  is  possible  to  try  to  believe  the  opposite  of  an 
axiom  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  possible  to  try  to 
imagine  the  state  of  things  opposite  to  that  which  it 

1  Page  408. 


204    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii.' 

asserts.  I  doubt,  for  example,  whether  we  can 
seriously  try  to  believe  that  a  thing  can  both  be 
and  not  be,  though  some  sort  of  attempt  to  imagine 
a  space  at  the  same  time  filled  and  not  filled  by  an 
object  might  possibly  be  made.  But  however  this 
may  be,  it  is  certain  that  the  incapacity  to  believe 
one  thing,  though  it  may  constitute  a  '  psychological 
necessity/  ^  cannot  give  a  '  logical  justification  '  for 
believing  its  contradictory ;  and  that  if  it  be  once 
admitted  that  such  a  logical  justification  must  be 
obtained  for  what  are  commonly  thought  to  be  self- 
evident  propositions,  we  should  require,  as  I  pointed 
out  before,  not  one,  but  an  infinite  series  of  justifica- 
tions, before  anything  could  be  considered  as  proved 
at  all.  In  short,  whether  inconceivable  means  un- 
imaginable, unrepresentable  (if  there  is  such  a  word), 
unthinkable,  or  in  the  highest  degree  unbelievable, 
its  relation  to  the  theory  of  ultimate  premises  of 
knowledge  remains  the  same.  Under  no  circum- 
stances can  the  recognition  of  the  mental  fact  that 
the  opposite  of  a  certain  proposition  is  inconceivable 
by  me,  be  to  me  a  satisfactory  reason  for  believ- 
ing it. 

Mr.  Spencer  seems  to  be  under  the  singular 
delusion  *  that  any  one  declining  to  recognise  the 
Universal  Postulate  can  consistently  do  this  only  so 
long  as  he  maintains  the  attitude  of  pure  and  simple 
negation.     The   moment  he  asserts   anything — the 

^  Page  407. 


CHAP,  x.]     THE  TEST  OF  INCONCEIVABILITY.  205 

moment  he  even  gives  a  reason  for  his  denial,  he 
may  be  stopped  by  demanding  his  warrant.  Against 
every  ''  because,"  and  every  ''  therefore "  may  be 
entered  a  demurrer,  until  he  has  said  why  this 
proposition  is  to  be  accepted  rather  than  the  count- 
ter-proposition.  So  that  he  cannot  even  take  a  step 
towards  justifying  his  scepticism  respecting  the  Uni- 
versal Postulate  without,  in  the  very  act,  confessing 
his  acceptance  of  it'  ^ 

The  confusion  underlying  these  remarks  has 
already  been  pointed  out  by  implication  ;  and  if  I 
may  venture  to  give  an  opinion  on  such  a  question, 
it  is  the  fundamental  confusion  which  has  vitiated  all 
this  portion  of  Mr.  Spencer  s  speculation.  He  seems 
to  suppose  that  the  choice  lies  between  founding  a 
creed  on  the  Universal  Postulate,  and  founding  it 
upon  nothing  at  all  :  and  in  order  to  demonstrate 
the  absurdity  of  the  second  alternative,  he  actually 
puts  himself  to  the  trouble  of  refuting  a  theory 
which  he  calls  '  Pure  Empiricism  ' — which  '  tacitly 
assumes  that  there  may  be  a  Philosophy  in  which 
nothing  is  asserted  but  what  is  proved.'^  Whether 
this  singular  system  has  any  objective  existence  I 
do  not  know  :  if  it  has,  Mr.  Spencer  may  be  allowed 
the  credit  of  having  effectually  exposed  its  absurdity  ; 
but  I  protest  against  the  notion  that  we  must  choose 
between  a  philosophy  of  this  type,  and  one  ultimately 
based  on  the  Universal   Postulate ;    nor  can   I  the 

1  Page  427,  ''^  Page  391. 


2o6     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

least  imagine  the  dialectical  process  by  which  Mr. 
Spencer  would  compel  the  *  Metaphysicians  '  (who 
come  in  for  so  many  hard  sayings  at  his  hands)  to 
regard  them  as  the  only  possible  alternatives. 

In  one  of  the  earlier  chapters  of  his  *  General 
Analysis,'  Mr.  Spencer  has  found  it  convenient  to 
give  us  an  amended  version  of  one  of  Berkeley's 
dialogues.^  It  will  not,  I  hope,  be  thought  disrespect- 
ful if,  also  in  the  dialogue  form,  I  give  my  idea  of 
the  method  in  which  Mr.  Spencer  and  a  '  Meta- 
physician '  would  discuss  the  necessity  and  validity 
of  the  Universal  Postulate.  We  must  suppose  this 
imaginary  individual  to  have  so  far  forgotten  himself 
as  to  make  some  positive  statement — say  that  a 
thing  must  either  be  or  not  be.  Instantly^  Mr. 
Spencer  demands  his  warrant  for  the  assertion,  upon 
which  our  Metaphysician  would  probably  say — 

Metaphysician. —  I  have  no  warrant  for  the  asser- 
tion, and  I  wish  for  none.  It  expresses  a  belief  for 
which  no  proof  is  forthcoming,  and  for  which  none 
is  required. 

Mr.  Spencer. — Still  you  must  say  why  this  pro- 
position is  to  be  accepted  rather  than  the  counter- 
proposition.^ 

Metaphysician. — Perhaps,  if  that  is  your  opinion, 
you  will  be  good  enough  to  give  me  your  own  version 
of  this  reason. 

Mr.  Spencer. — Certainly.     I  believe  that  a  thing 

1  Page  337.  2  Page  427.  s  ibid. 


CHAP.  X.]     THE  TEST  OF  INCONCEIVABILITY.  207 

must  either  be  or  not  be,  because  this  is  a  proposp((^'^ 
tion  of  which  I  cannot  conceive  the  negation. 

Metaphysician. — Then  in  your  opinion  the  fact 
that  you  cannot  conceive  the  negation  of  a  proposi- 
tion is  in  all  cases  a  sufficient  logical  justification  for 
believing  it  ?  ^ 

Mr.  Spencer. — Well,  not  exactly.  It  is  sufficient 
only  in  the  case  of  those  propositions  '  which  are  not 
further  decomposable.'  ^ 

Metaphysician. — Then  I  understand  you  to  hold 
that  all  propositions  which  are  not  further  decom- 
posable, and  whose  negations  are  inconceivable,  are 
true ;  and  that  '  a  thing  must  either  be  or  not  be '  is 
such  a  proposition. 

Mr.  Spencer. — That  is  my  opinion. 

Metaphysician. — Without  disputing  your  major 
premiss — which,  however,  by  no  means  commends 
itself  to  my  mind — I  am  curious  to  know  how  you 
arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  the  proposition  we  are 
discussing  (i)  cannot  be  further  decomposed,  and 
has  {2)  a  negation  which  is  inconceivable  .'* 

Mr.  Spencer. — ^I  arrive  at  the  first  conclusion^  by 
a  careful  consideration  of  the  proposition  itself;  I 
arrive  at  the  second  by  a  process  of  introspection.* 

Metaphysician. — Speaking  for  myself,  I  do  not 
feel  more  certainty  respecting  the  accuracy  with 
which  these  operations  have  been  performed,  than  I 

1  Page  407.  2  Page  410.  3  Pages  394-399.  • 

*  Fortnightly  Review,  pp.  542-545. 


2o8    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

did  respecting  the  truth  of  the  original  assertion  for 
which  you  informed  me  warrant  was  required  ; 
indeed,  I  do  not  feel  nearly  so  much.  Doubtless, 
however,  as  you  are  so  particular  on  the  subject  of 
warrants,  you  have  some  warrant  for  your  opinions 
on  these  points  ;  could  you  inform  me  precisely  what 
it  is  ? 

I  shall  not  continue  the  imaginary  dialogue, 
because  it  is  hard  to  think  of  any  reply  which  Mr. 
Spencer  could  make  to  this  last  demand  which  would 
not  have  about  It  a  slight  air  of  absurdity.  If  the 
reader  desires  to  bring  the  conversation  to  a  proper 
close,  he  will  have  no  difficulty  in  filling  in  the  blank 
for  himself  I  have  said  enough  to  make  It  clear 
why  it  is  that  Mr.  Spencer's  elaborate  discussion  on 
the  Universal  Postulate  does  not,  in  my  opinion, 
constitute  a  valuable  addition  to  Philosophic  theory  : 
and  it  only  remains  to  examine  how  far  his  particular 
system  of  Realism,  which  is  professedly  founded  on 
the  Universal  Postulate,  is  tenable  If  that  be  discre- 
dited.    This  I  shall  do  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PRODF  OF  REALISM.       209 


CHAPTER   XI. 

MR.   SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM. 

I  HAVE  been  In  some  doubt  whether,  having  regard 
to  the  general  plan  of  this  essay,  I  ought  or  ought 
not  to  Introduce  Into  It  any  criticism  on  Mr.  Spencer's 
Proof  of  Realism.  My  wish  has  been  to  consider 
merely  those  opinions  which  have  gained  some 
acceptance  among  English  thinkers,  and  to  criticise 
these  In  their  most  perfect  shape  ;  but  though, 
doubtless,  Mr.  Spencer's  statement  of  his  views  is 
the  best  attainable,  I  am  not  aware  that  the  portion 
of  his  speculations  which  he  himself  would  describe 
as  metaphysical  fulfils  the  first  of  the  above  con- 
ditions, in  having  obtained  any  philosophic  fol- 
lowing. 

But  though  Mr.  Spencer's  *  metaphysics '  have 
not  perhaps  commanded  much  assent,  his  general 
theory  of  the  universe,  which  logically  depends  on 
his  metaphysics,  is  accepted  in  its  main  outline  by 
so  many  thinkers  in  this  country,  and  occupies  so 
Important  a  space  In  the  field  of  general  speculation, 
that  a  sort  of  reflected  importance  Is  shed  over  his 
defence  of  the  foundations  on  which  the  Imposing 
superstructure   finally   rests.     It   may,  therefore,  be 

p 


2IO    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

convenient  to  state  some  of  the  reasons  which  exist 
for  thinking  that  the  defence  is  hardly  as  effective  as 
Mr.  Spencer  seems  to  consider  it. 

Mr.  Spencer  sees  clearly,  more  clearly  perhaps 
than  other  philosophers  with  whom  he  is  nearly 
allied,  that  the  question  of  the  external  world  is  a 
fundamental  one  for  Science,  or,  if  not  for  Science, 
at  all  events  for  Evolution.  '  Should  the  idealist 
be  right,'  he  says,  '  the  doctrine  of  Evolution  is  a 
dream.'  ^  As,  previous  to  this  utterance,  Mr.  Spen- 
cer had  written  (I  think)  five  volumes  of  '  Philo- 
sophy,' which,  if  the  doctrine  of  Evolution  be  a 
dream,  can  be  little  better  than  waste  paper,  it  is 
clear  that  he  is  bound  under  heavy  penalties  to  prove 
that  the  Idealist  is  wrong.  Accordingly,  he  gives  a 
defence  of  Realism  which  certainly  does  not  err  on 
the  side  of  meagreness.  It  consists  of  some  nine- 
teen chapters,  occupying  nearly  two  hundred  pages, 
divided,^  as  the  reader  acquainted  with  Mr.  Spencer's 
favourite  method  of  arrangement  will  be  prepared  to 
expect,  into  an  Introduction,  an  Analytical  Argu- 
ment (subdivided  into  a  proximate  Analysis  and  an 
ultimate  Analysis),  and  a  Synthetical  Argument ; 
and  enriched  with  even  a  larger  number  than  usual 
of  those  apologues  with  which  Mr.  Spencer  so  often 
finds  it  convenient  to  prepare  the  minds  of  his 
readers  for  the  comprehension  of  his  more  abstruse 
speculations. 

*  Psychology^  vol.  ii.  p.  311.  "^  Ibid.  367. 


CHAP.  XL]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.       21  x 

It  is  evidently  impossible  within  the  limits  of 
this  essay  to  criticise  so  elaborate  a  discussion  in  all 
its  details.  The  most  convenient  plan  will  perhaps 
be  to  say  a  few  words  on  the  substance  of  those 
chapters  which  seem  to  call  for  remark,  taking  them 
in  their  existing  order.  But  before  doing  this,  it  will 
be  well  to  determine  certain  preliminary  points,  which 
will  greatly  facilitate  the  progress  of  the  argument. 

In  the  first  place,  Mr.  Spencer  and  the  idealists 
are  agreed  in  asserting  that  we  do  not  directly  per- 
ceive the  permanent  reality — if  such  a  thing  exists. 
'  What  we  are  conscious  of,'  says  Mr.  Spencer,^  '  as 
properties  of  matter,  even  down  to  weight  and  resis- 
tance, are  but  subjective  affections  produced  by 
objective  agencies  which  are  unknown  and  unknow- 
able.' 

In  the  second  place,  the  idealist  denies  that  there 
is  any  proof  that  this  permanent  reality  exists,  while 
Mr.  Spencer  asserts  that  there  is  such  proof,  and 
that  he  is  in  possession  of  it. 

And  in  the  third  place,  I  understand  Mr.  Spencer 
to  maintain  that  the  unknown  and  unknowable,  un- 
perceived  and  unperceivable  reality,  varies  in  some 
fixed  relation  with  the  known  and  perceived  subjec 
tive  affection  which  it  produces. 

The  thing  to  be  proved  being  thus  to  a  certain 
extent  made  clear,  let  us  proceed  to  the  proof. 

In  doing  so  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  omitting 

^  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  493. 
P  2 


212     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

any  detailed  reference  to  the  first  four  chapters 
which  Mr.  Spencer  describes  as  an  Introduction. 
My  justification  for  doing  this  is  that,  as  the  object 
of  these  chapters  is  merely  to  foreshadow  ^  the  suc- 
ceeding arguments,  I  shall  overlook  nothing  essential 
to  his  case  by  taking  such  a  course.  While  my  motive 
for  doing  it  is  In  the  first  place  to  save  space,  and  in 
the  second  place  to  avoid  having  to  enter,  not  merely 
into  Mr.  Spencer's  views,  but  into  his  views  of  other 
people's  views.  Three  out  of  these  four  chapters 
consist  in  an  attack  on  that  miscellaneous  body  of 
thinkers  whom  Mr.  Spencer  is  In  the  habit  of  hold- 
ing up  to  general  contempt  under  the  collective 
name  of  '  Metaphysicians ' ;  and  though  my  private 
conviction  Is,  that  could  they  reply  they  would  make 
very  short  work  of  some  of  his  objections,  still,  as  I 
am  anxious  to  keep  as  clear  as  possible  of  historical 
discussion,  and  as  I  am  in  no  way  concerned  to  de- 
fend the  philosophers  in  question,  the  better  course 
will  be  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  main  body  of  the 
argument,  without  indulging  in  any  preliminary  skir- 
mishing. 

Chapter  V.  Is  merely  explanatory  of  the  general 
arrangement  of  the  discussion. 

Chap.  VI.  contains  '  The  Argument  from  Priority,' 
thus  summarised  by  Mr.  Spencer  :  ^  '  In  the  history 
of  the  race,  as  well  as  in  the  history  of  every  mind, 
Realism  is  the  primary  conception  ;  only  after  it  has 

1  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  367.  2  i^j^  p  ^74. 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      213 

been  reached  and  long  held  without  question  does 
it  become  possible  even  to  frame  the  Idealistic  con- 
ception, while  resting  upon  the  Realistic  one ;  and 
then,  as  ever  after,  the  Idealistic  conception,  depend- 
ing on  the  Realistic  one,  must  vanish  the  instant  the 
Realistic  one  is  taken  away.'  With  regard  to  the 
first  of  these  positions,  Mr.  Spencer  observes/  that 
his  calling  in  question  its  converse  *  will  excite  sur- 
prise in  the  metaphysical  reader,'  which  will  '  rise 
into  astonishment  if  he  distinctly  denies  it.'  If  the 
metaphysical  reader  is  either  surprised  or  astonished, 
it  will,  I  apprehend,  be  more  probably  at  Mr.  Spen- 
cer's thinking  that  the  assertion  that  '  some  form  of 
Realism  is  the  primary  and  natural  belief  of  man- 
kind '  is  relevant,  than  at  his  thinking  it  true.  I 
never  heard  of  anybody  who  supposed  that  the 
Boys,  Hottentots,  and  Farm-labourers,  from  whom 
Mr.  Spencer  draws  his  illustrations,  were  either 
Idealists  or  inferred  the  existence  of  the  indepen- 
dent world  from  the  consciousness  of  their  own 
sensations.  Nor  is  it  easy  to  see  how  anybody 
holding  Mr.  Spencer's  views  can  think  it  of  much 
importance  what  they  thought,  since  their  Crude 
Realism  is  nearly  as  far  removed  from  Transfigured 
Realism  as  it  is  from  Idealism.  *  But,'  says  Mr. 
Spencer,^  '  Realism  must  be  posited,  before  a  step 
can  be  taken  towards  propounding  Idealism.'  And 
in  the   succeeding  paragraph    he   implies  that  the 

^  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  369.  ^  Ibid.  p.  374. 


214    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

proof  of  Idealism  logically  requires  us  to  assume  the 
existence  of  external  (?  Independent)  objects.  For 
this  statement  however,  which,  if  true,  would  un- 
doubtedly confute  the  idealist  as  distinguished  from 
the  sceptic,  I  cannot  find  a  shadow  of  proof,  unless 
the  following  extract  (for  the  length  of  which  I  must 
apologise)  is  to  be  regarded  as  such. 

*  Tell  (a  labourer  or  farmer)  that  the  sound  he 
hears  from  the  bell  of  the  village  church  exists  In 
himself;  and  that  in  the  absence  of  all  creatures 
having  ears  there  would  be  no  sound.  When  his 
look  of  blank  amazement  has  waned,  try  and  make 
him  understand  this  truth  which  is  so  clear  to  you. 
Explain  that  the  vibrations  of  the  bell  are  commu- 
nicated to  the  air ;  that  the  air  communicates  them 
as  waves  or  pulses  ;  that  these  pulses  successively 
strike  the  membrane  of  his  ear,  causing  It  to  vibrate  ; 
and  that  what  exists  In  the  air  as  mechanical  move- 
ments become^in  him  the  sensation  of  sound,  which 
varies  in  pitch  as  these  movements  vary  in  their 
rapidity  of  succession.  And  now  ask  yourself,  What 
are  these  things  you  are  telling  him  about  ?  When 
you  speak  to  him  of  the  bell,  of  the  air,  of  the  me- 
chanical motions,  do  you  mean  so  many  of  his  Ideas  ? 
If  you  do,  you  fall  into  the  astounding  absurdity  of 
supposing  that  he  already  has  the  conception  you 
are  trying  to  give  him.  By  the  bell,  the  air,  the 
vibrations,  then,  you  mean  just  what  he  means — 
so  many  objective  existences  and  actions;  and  by 


CHAP.  XL]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      215 

no  possibility  can  you  present  to  him  this  hypothesis, 
that  what  he  knows  as  sound  exists  in  him,  and  not 
outside  him,  without  postulating,  In  common  with 
him,  these  objective  realities.  By  no  possibility  can 
you  show  him  that  he  knows  only  his  own  sensations, 
without  supposing  him  to  be  already  consciotcs  0/  all 
these  things  and  changes  causing  his  sensations! 

If  we  may  judge  from  this  extract,  and  especially 
from  the  last  sentence  of  It,  which  I  have  put  in 
italics,  Mr.  Spencer  imagines  that  an  Idealist  sets  to 
work  to  prove  that  we  know  only  our  own  sensations, 
by  showing  that,  according  to  modern  physical  theo- 
ries, our  sensations  are  produced  in  us  by  the  motions 
of  objects  In  space  :  by  showing,  for  example,  that 
sound  Is  subjective,  because  its  objective  cause  is 
vibrations,  which  are  something  altogether  different 
from  the  sensations  they  produce.  If  any  Idealist 
really  argued  in  this  way,  his  procedure  would  cer- 
tainly exhibit  what  Mr.  Spencer  calls  ^  '  a  scarcely 
Imaginable  blindness  to  the  contradiction  between 
premises  and  conclusion.'  But  I  never  heard  of  such 
an  individual,  and  if  he  exists,  he  certainly  is  not 
representative.  It  Is  true  that  many  Idealists — for 
example,  Mr.  J.  S.  Mill  ^ — -have  held,  in  my  opinion 
erroneously,  that  Idealism  was  consistent  with  the 
usual  physical  theories  respecting  the  causes  of  sen- 
sation, but   they  never  founded  their   Idealism  on 

^  Psychology  J  vol.  ii.  p.  374.  ^  Cf.  section  of  this  Essay. 


2i6     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

those  theories,  and  whatever  be  their  errors,  are  cer- 
tainly not  guilty  of  *  unimaginable  blindness.' 

'  The  Argument  from  Priority '  may  therefore 
be  dismissed,  because,  of  the  two  main  positions  of 
which  it  consists,  one  is  not  relevant,  and  the  other 
is  not  true.  It  is  not  relevant  to  say,  that  the  first 
and  natural  belief  of  mankind  is  realistic  ;  it  is  not 
true  to  say,  that  the  proof  of  Idealism  logically  in- 
volves Realism. 

Chap.  VI I. ^  contains  '  The  Argument  from  Sim- 
plicity,' which  is  shortly  this  : — Since  the  proof  of 
Realism  contains  much  fewer  steps  than  the  proof 
of  Idealism,  it  is  therefore  much  less  likely  to  be 
erroneous.  I  shall  reserve  my  remarks  on  this  piece 
of  reasoning  till  we  reach  Chapters  XIII.  and  XIV., 
where  it  is  more  elaborately  repeated  ;  and  shall 
only  say  here  that  if,  as  Mr.  Spencer  seems  to 
think,^  the  proofs  whose  lengths  have  to  be  com- 
pared include  not  only  all  that  can  be  said  in  favour 
of  one  view,  but  also  all  that  can  be  said  against  the 
other — the  nineteen  chapters  we  are  now  considering 
must  furnish  a  powerful  objection  against  the  truth 
of  Realism. 

Chap.  VI 11.^  contains  '  The  Argument  from  Dis- 
tinctness.' It  may  be  stated  thus  :  ^ — '  The  one  pro- 
position of  Realism  Is  presented  In  vivid  terms,  and 
each  of  the  many  propositions  of  Idealism  or  Scep- 

1  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  375.  2  j^j^j  p   ^yj^ 

•»  Ibid.  p.  379.  4  Ibid.  p.  380. 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.       217 

ticism  is  represented  in  faint  terms ' ;  ergo,  Realism 
is  to  be  preferred.  Without  wasting  the  reader's 
time  by  disputing  the  major  premiss  of  this  argu- 
ment, viz. — that  the  propositions  whose  terms  are 
vividly  represented  are  to  be  preferred  to  proposi- 
tions whose  terms  are  faintly  represented — absurd 
as  this  is  when  crudely  stated,  and  ill  as  it  fits  in 
with  our  author's  doctrine,  that  propositions  are  to 
be  accepted  in  proportion  to  the  strength  with  which 
their  terms  cohere}  I  shall  content  myself  with  attack- 
ing the  minor  premiss. 

What,  then,  is  '  the  one  proposition  of  Realism  * 
which  is  represented  in  vivid  terms  ?  In  glancing 
through  Mr.  Spencer's  defence  of  Realism,  we 
come  across  a  large  number  of  propositions  of  a 
highly  abstract  character,  and  all  of  them  equally 
necessary  to  his  system.  He  has  opinions  on  the 
nature  of  the  connection  between  subject  and  object 
— proof  of  the  existence  of  the  object — explanation 
of  the  nature  of  the  object — none  of  which  can  be 
omitted  without  depriving  his  doctrine  of  some 
essential  element.  Are  these  the  propositions,  or 
any  of  them,  which  are  represented  in  vivid  terms  '^ 
The  reader  shall  judge  from  one  specimen.  Here 
is  an  extract  describing  the  Real,  as  it  is  put  before 
us  by  Mr.  Spencer's  Realism  : — *  These  several  sets 
of  experiences  unite  to  form  a  conception  of  some-^ 
thing  beyond  consciousness  which  is  absolutely  inde- 

^  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  450. 


2i8     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  ii. 

pendent  of  consciousness  ;  which  possesses  power,  if 
not  Hke  that  of  consciousness,  yet  equivalent  to  it  ; 
and  which  remains  fixed  in  the  midst  of  changing 
appearances.  And  this  conception,  uniting  indepen- 
dence, permanence,  and  force,  is  the  conception  we 
have  of  matter.'  If  the  reader  thinks  the  ideas 
called  up  by  this  sentence  are  particularly  vivid, 
he  must,  as  Mr.  Spencer  remarks  ^  on  another  occa- 
sion, have  *a  mental  structure  of  a  very  peculiar 
kind.' 

The  real  truth  is  that,  because  all  idealists 
and  sceptics,  in  the  exposition  and  defence  of  their 
opinions,  have  indulged  in  a  great  deal  of  abstract 
Psychology,  Mr.  Spencer  concludes  that  such  specu- 
lations are  more  required  by  their  opinions  than  they 
are  by  the  opinions  of  their  opponents.  The  quan- 
tity of  such  speculation  which  he  has  himself  found 
it  necessary  to  give  to  the  world  in  support  of 
Realism  should  have  made  him  cautious  in  his 
assertions  on  this  point,  which  are,  in  fact,  as  I  shall 
presently  show,  founded  on  a  misconception  respect- 
ing the  sceptical  position. 

The  chapters  from  IX.  to  XI.  inclusive,  which 
contain  Mr.  Spencer's  account  of  our  ultimate  cri- 
terion of  belief,  have  been  sufficiently  dealt  with  in 
the  last  chapter. 

Chapter  XII.  contains  an  account  of  the  proper 
mode  of  comparing  conclusions  in  those  cases  where 

^  Psychology^  vol.  ii.  p.  327. 


CHAP.  XL]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      219 

both  sides  make  appeal  to  the  Universal  Postulate, 
on  which  (as  Mr.  Spencer  thinks)  all  belief  and  all 
reasoning  are  ultimately  founded.  His  view  is,  that 
the  *  conclusion  which  involves  the  postulate  the 
fewest  times '  is  the  one  to  be  accepted  ;  and  though 
I  shall  for  obvious  reasons  ignore  that  part  of  his  re- 
marks which  assume  the  truth  of  the  postulate  itself, 
it  will  be  well  to  say  something  respecting  an  argu- 
ment which  in  its  main  outlines  Mr.  Spencer  used 
before  in  Chapter  VII. 

This  argument  is  essentially  as  follows  : — Every 
piece  of  reasoning  is,  other  things  being  equal,  to  be 
trusted,  roughly  speaking,  in  inverse  proportion  to 
its  length.  In  other  words,  the  longer  it  is  the  more 
likelihood  is  there  of  error  having  crept  in  at  some 
point  in  its  course.  How  far  this  argument,  if  sound, 
can  be  used  in  favour  of  Realism  is  a  question  which 
will  be  discussed  immediately.  At  present  I  am  con- 
cerned with  the  argument  considered  in  itself  It 
may  be  admitted  at  once  that  the  allegation  contained 
in  it  is  true.  It  is  undoubtedly  the  fact  that  of  any 
two  computations  the  shorter  is  probably  the  more 
correct — other  things  being  the  same.  But  then,  under 
what  circumstances  are  other  things  the  same  ?  To 
whom  does  it  occur  to  know  no  other  difference 
between  two  lines  of  reasoning  but  the  difference 
between  their  lengths  ?  So  far  as  I  can  see,  to  only 
two  classes  of  people — to  those  who  know  no  other 
difference  merely  because  they  know  nothing  about 


# 


220    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

the  matter,  who  are  absolutely  Ignorant  both  of  the 
history  and  of  the  character  of  the  things  compared  ; 
and  to  those  who  know  something  about  the  subject, 
but  can  draw  no  conclusions  from  their  knowledge, 
in  whose  eyes  both  lines  of  reasoning  appear  equally 
solid,  and  the  authorities  on  both  sides  equally 
worthy  of  deference.  This  is  not  very  different 
from  saying  that  the  only  people  who  are  likely  to 
be  convinced  solely  by  the  '  argument  from  sim- 
plicity,' are  those  who  are  either  too  ignorant  or  too 
stupid  to  make  use  of  any  other.  These  are  not,  I 
imagine,  the  only  persons  whom  Mr.  Spencer  desires 
to  persuade  ;  but  it  is  clear  that  it  is  only  in  relation 
to  them  that  the  comparative  lengths  of  two  argu- 
ments can  be  regarded  as  ^  *  a  rigorous  test  of  the 
relative  validities  of  their  conflicting  conclusion,'  or 
as  a  *  method  of  ascertaining  the  comparative  values 
of  all  cognitions.'  ^  To  all  other  people — to  all,  that 
is,  who  have  some  opinion  respecting  the  intrinsic 
worth  of  the  lines  of  reasoning  compared  —  the 
relative  length  of  those  lines  can  at  most  be  only 
one  of  the  grounds  on  which  their  ultimate  verdict 
is  based  ;  and  then  the  question  arises,  what  is  to  be 
done  when  the  longest  argument  appears  to  be  in 
itself  the  soundest  ?  To  judge  by  the  confidence 
which  Mr.  Spencer  appears  to  place  In  his  '  test  of 
relative  validity,'  his  opinion  would  seem  to  be  that, 

^  Psycholos^yy  vol.  ii.  p.  434.  2  Ibid. 


CHAP  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.       22r 

even  in  that  case,  the  conclusion  arrived  at  by  the 
shortest  route  Is  to  be  accepted — a  somewhat  extra- 
vagant doctrine,  according  to  which  a  long  division 
sum,  done  by  a  charity  school-boy,  would  be  re- 
garded as  giving  more  trustworthy  results  than 
the  calculations  establishing  the  lunar  theory.  The 
better  opinion  seems  to  be  that,  though,  other 
things  being  equal,  the  fewer  steps  an  argument 
consists  of  the  less  likelihood  is  there  of  one  of 
them  being  false  ;  yet  that,  since  this  risk  may  be 
indefinitely  diminished  by  repeated  examinations.  It 
may  be  practically  neglected  in  those  cases  where 
the  balance  of  reason  appears,  on  other  grounds,  to 
Incline  distinctly  to  one  side  or  the  other.  And  this 
opinion,  I  take  it,  Is  not  only  the  most  reasonable 
one  In  itself,  but  is  that  which  Is  sanctioned  by  the 
ordinary  practice  of  mankind. 

Chapter  XI 1 1,  contains  the  application  of  the 
general  '  test  of  relative  validity  '  established  In  the 
preceding  chapter  to  the  particular  controversy 
between  Realism  and  Scepticism.  As,  however,  we 
have  found  reason  for  thinking  that  the  '  test '  is 
pretty  nearly  worthless,  I  might  consider  myself 
absolved  from  any  obligation  to  consider  how  far,  if 
valid,  It  would  tell  in  favour  of  Mr.  Spencer's  par- 
ticular opinions  ;  and  should  therefore  pass  this 
chapter  over,  were  it  not  that  It  affords  a  convenient 
occasion  for  clearing  up  some  of  the  misconceptions 
respecting  the  essential  nature  of  the  arguments  to 


222     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

be  compared,  by  which  our  author  has  been  greatly 
misled. 

I  will  begin,  as  he  does,  with  the  realistic  argu- 
ment. Here^  is  his  own  version  of  it : — '  Let  him 
(the  reader)  contemplate  an  object— this  book,  for 
mstance.  Resolutely  refraining  from  theorising,  let 
him  say  what  he  finds.  He  finds  that  he  is  conscious 
of  the  book  as  existing  apart  from  himself.  Does 
there  enter  into  his  consciousness  any  notion  about 

sensation  ?      Not  so Does    he   perceive 

that  the  thing  he  is  conscious  of  is  an  image  of  the 

book?     Not  at  all So  long  as  he  refuses 

to  translate  the  fact  into  any  hypothesis,  he  feels 
simply  conscious  of  the  book,  and  not  of  an  im- 
pression of  the  book — of  an  objective  and  not  of  a 
subjective  thing.  He  feels  that  this  recognition  of 
the  book  as  an  external  reality  is  a  single  indivisible 

act And,  lastly,  he  feels  that,  do  what  he 

will,  he  cannot  reverse  this  act — he  cannot  conceive 
that  where  he  sees  and  feels  the  book  there  is  nothing. 
Hence,  while  he  continues  looking  at  the  book,  his 
belief  in  it  as  an  external  reality  possesses  the 
highest  validity  possible.  It  has  the  direct  guarantee 
of  the  Universal  Postulate ;  and  it  assumes  the 
Universal  Postulate  only  once' 

This  very  singular  passage  is  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  three  pages  of  argument,  intended  to  show 

^  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  437  (italics  my  own). 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      223 

that  we  can  and  do  have  a  knowledge  of  the  not-self 
without  having  at  the  same  time  a  knowledge  of  the 
self.  How  this  is  to  be  reconciled  with  the  state- 
ment I  have  italicised  above,  which  asserts  that  in 
looking  at  a  book  we  are  conscious  of  it  as  existing 
apart  from  ourselves ;  how,  in  other  words,  it  can  be 
possible  to  think  of  a  thing  as  existing  apart  from 
another  thing,  without  at  the  same  time  thinking  of 
that  other  thing,  I  do  not  pretend  to  say.  Possibly 
the  expression  is  a  slip  :  in  any  case,  I  pass  on  to 
objections  of  more  importance. 

I  contend,  then,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  realistic 
argument  above  stated,  even  if  it  proved  all  that  Mr. 
Spencer  thinks  it  proves,  is  not  sufficient  to  establish 
the  ordinary  belief  in  an  external  world.  I  contend, 
in  tlie  second  place,  that  the  psychological  facts 
on  which  the  argument  rests  are,  when  properly 
understood,  not  inconsistent  with  either  Idealism  or 
Scepticism.  And  I  contend,  in  the  third  place,  that 
if  the  argument  is,  as  Mr.  Spencer  thinks  it  is,  sub- 
versive of  any  theory  of  Idealism  or  Scepticism,  it  is 
not  less  subversive  of  Mr.  Spencer's  own  theory  of 
Transfigured  Realism. 

What  is  the  thing  supposed  to  be  proved  by  this 
argument  ?  Mr.  Spencer  states  it  in  the  clearest 
terms.  '  While  (the  reader)  continues  looking  at  the 
book,  his  belief  in  it  as  an  external  ( =  independent) 
reality  possesses  '  the  highest  validity  possible.'  This 
is  the  conclusion  which  is  so  certain  and  so  imme- 


224    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  if- 

diate  that  scepticism  is  impotent  to  shake  it.  But 
surely  it  is  evident  that  scepticism  might  admit  it, 
and  not  be  much  the  worse  for  the  admission.  If 
the  only  belief  which,  having  '  the  highest  validity 
possible,'  must  be  respected  by  the  sceptic,  is  the 
belief  in  the  objective  existence  of  the  second  volume 
of  Mr.  Spencer's  Psychology  (or  some  other  single 
object),  and  that  only  so  long  as  the  reader  happens 
to  be  looking  at  it,  it  is  plain  that  the  field  of  legiti- 
mate doubt  is  not  materially  limited.  So  very 
modest  a  contribution  to  the  Cosmos  postulated  by 
Science,  Is  scarcely  sufficient  by  itself  to  assure  us 
that  Evolution  may  not,  after  all,  be  'a  dream.'  On 
this  objection,  however,  which  deals  rather  with  the 
nature  of  the  external  world  than  with  its  independ- 
ence, I  do  not  dwell. 

My  second  objection  to  Mr.  Spencer's  realistic 
argument  is,  that  he  assumes  in  It  that  the  idealistic 
conclusion  can  be  reached  only  by  either  ignoring  or 
*  doctoring '  (so  to  speak)  the  facts  given  in  percep.- 
tion ;  a  misconception  which  I  think  has  Its  root  in 
the  ambiguous  use  of  the  word  external.  In  this 
connection  external  may  mean  external  to  (=  inde- 
pendent of)  the  perceiving  self,  or  it  may  mean  ex- 
ternal to  (=  outside  of)  the  perceiving  organism.  It 
is  using  the  term  in  the  first  of  these  senses,  not  in 
the  second,  that  the  sceptic  and  idealist  doubt  and 
deny  respectively  the  existence  of  an  external  world  ; 
but   if  we   are  rigidly    to  interpret    Mr.    Spencer's 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      225 

language,  he  seems  to  regard  these  two  very  different 
positions  as  equivalent. 

A  man  looking  at  a  book,  he  says,  '  cannot  con- 
ceive that  where  he  sees  and  feels  the  book  there  is 
nothing!  Nor  is  it  necessary,  in  the  interests  of 
Idealism,  that  he  should  conceive  it.  Of  course 
where  he  sees  and  feels  the  book  there  is  something  ; 
— there  is  the  book.  The  idealist  does  not  deny 
this  on  the  one  hand,  nor  does  he  assert  on  the  other 
that,  when  he  does  not  see  and  feel  the  book,  it  is 
not  there,,  in  the  sense  of  having  vanished  from  that 
portion  of  space.  No  idealist  seriously  maintains,  I 
should  imagine,  that  the  universe  consists  of  infinite 
space,  empty  except  for  those  things  which  happen 
each  moment  to  be  perceived.  But  if  they  do  not 
maintain  this,  what  is  the  use  of  asserting,  as  against 
them,  that  we  cannot  conceive  that  where  we  see 
and  feel  a  book  there  is  nothing  ? 

My  third  objection  to  Mr.  Spencers  realistic 
argument  is,  that  the  mode  of  refuting  '  meta- 
physicians,' for  which  in  this  chapter  and  elsewhere 
he  shows  a  marked  partiality,  is  as  effective  against 
himself  as  it  is  against  his  opponents.      Like  the 

*  common  sense  '  school,  he  constantly  assumes  that 
the  unbiassed  deliverance  of  consciousness  (as  he 
would  call  it),  the  unsifted  opinion  of  the  vulgar  (as 
I  should  rather  describe  it),  carries  with  it  some 
peculiar  weight  in  the  controversy.     But,  unlike  the 

*  common  sense  '  school,  the  opinions  which  he  really 


226    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 


holds  respecting  the  external  world  require  us  to  do 
as  much  violence  to  our  ordinary  beliefs  as  any  form 
of  what  he  calls  '  Anti- Realism.'  Throughout  the 
whole  of  the  Negative  Justification  of  Realism  we 
are  allowed  to  suppose  that  the  errors  of  meta- 
physicians are  aberrations  from  true  and  natural 
beliefs  produced  by  artificial  habits  of  analysis  ;  and 
it  is  not  till  we  come  to  the  Positive  Justification  of 
Realism  that  we  discover  how  different  are  the 
beliefs  which  are  true  from  those  which  are  natural  ; 
these  last  being  ultimately  described — contempt- 
uously if  truly — as  constituting  ^  '  a  crude  realism,' 
*  the  ^  realism  of  common  life,'  *  the  realism  of  the 
child  and  the  rustic' 

A  striking  example  of  the  facility  with  which 
Mr.  Spencer  adopts  the  reasoning  of  Crude  Realism 
when  it  happens  to  suit  his  convenience,  occurs  in 
the  chapter  we  are  considering.  His  object  for  the 
moment  is  to  contrast  in  a  certain  particular  (which 
I  have  elsewhere  shown  to  be  immaterial)  the  argu- 
ments used  by  metaphysicians  and  the  argument  by 
which  Realism  is  established.  For  the  purpose  of 
this  comparison  he  selects,  as  a  specimen  of  meta- 
physical reasoning,  the  argument  of  the  hypothetical 
realist;  as  a  specimen  of  realistic  reasoning,  the 
argument  I  quoted  above.  It  would  be  easy  in  the 
interest  of  the  *  metaphysician  '  to  take  exception  to 
the  first    of  these  selections,    which    Mr.    Spencer 

1  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  497.  2  jbj^j^  p^  ^^^^ 


CHAP.  XL]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      227 

justifies  on  the  strange  ground  that  Hypothetical 
Realism  is  *  the  ^  comparatively  unassuming  parent  * 
of  all  other  Anti-Realistic  doctrines  ;  but  what  I  wish 
more  particularly  to  insist  on  now  is  the  impropriety 
of  his  attempting  to  refute  an  argument,  with  whose 
conclusion  he  substantially  agrees,  by  means  of  one 
from  whose  conclusions  he  absolutely  dissents.  His 
opinion  we  know  is  that  ^  '  what  we  are  conscious  of 
as  properties  of  matter,  even  down  to  weight  and 
resistance,  are  but  subjective  affections  produced  in 
us  by  objective  agencies  which  are  unknown  and  un- 
knowable.' This,  I  take  it  is  also  the  opinion  of 
the  Hypothetical  Realist :  but  it  is  by  no  means  the 
opinion  either  of  the  ordinary  man,  or  of  the  indi- 
vidual whom  Mr.  Spencer  represents  as  arriving  at  a 
realistic  conclusion  by  the  simple  process  of  looking 
at  some  single  object — say  the  second  volume  of  the 
'Psychology' — with  an  unbiassed  mind.  This  per- 
sonage (as  we  saw)  ^  '  feels  that  the  sole  content  of 
his  consciousness  is  the  book  considered  as  an 
external  (=  independent)  reality.'  And  the  corre- 
sponding belief  is  one,  we  are  further  informed,  which 
has  *  the  highest  validity  possible.'  Now  the  ex- 
ternal reality  is,  according  to  Mr.  Spencer,  *  unknown 
and  unknowable' — 'a  mode  of  being,'  as  we  are 
elsewhere  told,^  represented  to  us  by  '  an  indefinable 
consciousness.'      Putting    all    these   statements  to- 

1  Psychology,  p.  441.  ^  Ibid.  p.  493. 

3  Ibid.  p.  437.  "  Ibid.  p.  452. 


228     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part.  ii. 

gether,  we  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  the  individual 
looking  at  Mr.  Spencer's  book  Is  unconscious  of  any 
of  the  properties  of  matter,  and  has,  as  the  sole  con- 
tent of  his  consciousness,  an  Indefinable  conscious- 
ness standing  for  an  unknown  and  unknowable  mode 
of  being  beyond  consciousness  ! 

This  Is  not  a  very  satisfactory  or  Instructive 
result ;  but  It  Is  one  of  a  kind  which  can  scarcely  be 
avoided  by  any  thinker  who  tries  to  use  our  ordinary 
and  natural  beliefs  as  weapons  against  the  sceptic, 
at  the  very  time  when  he  is  attempting  to  establish 
a  theory  against  which  all  our  ordinary  and  natural 
beliefs  rebel.  To  my  mind  the  effort  to  upset  the 
results  of  critical  analysis  (whatever  these  may  be) 
by  an  appeal  to  uncritical  opinion  is  as  reasonable 
in  the  case  of  the  sceptical  view  of  the  external 
world  as  it  would  be  in  the  case  of  the  Copernican 
theory  of  the  Solar  System,  and  not  nearly  so  reason- 
able as  it  would  be  in  the  case  of  the  Freedom 
of  Will.  But  however  this  may  be,  whether  the 
method  be  good  or  bad,  if  it  is  applied  ^  all  It  must 
be  applied  impartially.  It  will  not  do  to  reject 
Idealism  because  It  is  in  opposition  to  natural  con- 
victions of  mankind,  unless  you  are  prepared  to  say 
that  you  think  the  natural  convictions  of  mankind 
are  sound  :  and  you  cannot  think  that  the  natural 
convictions  of  mankind  are  sound  unless  you  are  pre- 
pared to  endorse  opinions  which  are  not  only  un- 
fitted to  sustain  criticism  in  themselves,  but  which 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      229 


would  render  Physical  Science  an  absurdity.  If  our 
instinctive  judgments  are  sufficient  to  prove  that  an 
independent  object  exists,  they  are  sufficient  to 
prove  that  it  is  coloured,  extended,  and  with  a 
particular  weight,  configuration,  and  texture.  If 
physical  science  and  introspective  analysis  are  to  be 
believed  when  they  show  that  colour  and  the  pro- 
perties of  matter  are,  as  Mr.  Spencer  says,  'sub- 
jective affections,'  they  deprive  the  appeal  to  our 
instinctive  judgments  of  all  the  weight  it  might 
otherwise  possess.^ 

*  An  objection  substantially  the  same  as  that  given  in  the  text  has 
been  urged  by  Mr.  H.  Sidgwick  in  the  Academy^  and  Mr.  Spencer  has 
replied  to  it  in  an  article  afterwards  re-published  in  the  third  volume  of 
his  Essays.^  His  reply,  which  he  does  not,  I  think,  seem  to  be  quite 
pleased  with  himself,  need  not  detain  us  long.  It  turns  essentially  on  a 
distinction  between  the  Primordial  Judgment,  as  he  calls  it,^  of  Crude 
Realism,  which  informs  us  that  an  object  exists,  and  the  ^M^r  Judgments 
of  Crude  Realism  which  (as  he  cannot  deny)  tell  us  that  it  is  coloured, 
and  so  forth.  The  first  we  are  to  believe  in,  whatever  arguments  may 
be  brought  against  it,  but  not  the  second.  Now  on  what  is  this  dis- 
tinction founded .''  He  does  not  formally  tell  us,  but  he  gives  us  to 
understand,  by  his  examples,  that  it  is  founded  on  the  fact,  that  the 
judgments  of  the  second  class  are,  while  the  'Primordial'  judgment 
of  the  first  class  is  not,  capable  of  an  'interpretation  which  equally 
well  corresponds  with  direct  intuition,  while  it  avoids  all  the  diffi- 
culties.' ^  I  will  content  myself  with  stating  one  of  the  objections  to 
which  this  doctrine  seems  open  :  which,  if  it  remains  unanswered, 
will,  however,  be  sufficient. 

Mr.  Spencer  admits  that,  according  to  the  immediate  deliverance 
.of  Crude  Realism,  the  external  reality  has  the  properties  of  matter  ; 
but  we  know  that  according  to  him  '  the  properties  of  matter,  even 
down  to  weight  and  resistance,  are  but  subjective  affections.'  *  Crude 
Realism   is,  therefore,  wrong ;   but  though  wrong,  it  arrives  at  its 


^  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  282-286.  "^  Ibid.  p.  286. 

3  Ibid.  p.  284.  ^  Ibid.  p.  493. 


i30    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,     [part  il. 


I  have  now  said — not  indeed  all  that  might  be 
said,  but— all  that  need  be  said  in  answer  to  the 
negative  justification  of  Realism.  With  Chapter 
XIV.  begins  the  Positive  Justification,  which  extends 
through  four  chapters,  and  completes  Mr.  Spencer's 
case. 

This  part   of  his  argument  need  not,  however, 

opinion  by  a  single  step.  Mr.  Spencer  shows  that  it  is  wrong  by  a 
process  of '  interpretation,'  which  is  nothing  else  than  an  explanation 
of  the  usual  physical  theories  of  the  origin  of  sensation,^  and  which  is 
therefore  an  extremely  long  and  complicated  argument.  How  is  this 
to  be  reconciled  with  that  theory  according  to  which  results  are  trust- 
worthy according  as  they  are  arrived  at  by  the  shortest  trains  of 
reasoning  ?  What  becomes  of  '  the  test  of  relative  validity '  ?  The 
truth  is,  that  Mr.  Spencer's  distinction  between  the  ^  Primordial '  and 
the  other  Judgments  of  Crude  Realism  is  perfectly  arbitrary,  as  I  think 
he  will  himself  see,  if  he  tries  to  show  reason  for  restoring  the  follow- 
ing doctored  quotation  from  the  XHIth  Chapter  of  his  *  General 
Analysis '  to  its  original  form.  The  words  I  have  added,  or  substi- 
tuted, are  put  in  italics.  The  reader  looking  at  a  book  '  finds  that  he 
is  conscious  of  the  book  as  a  coloured  extended  object  apart  from  him- 
self. Does  there  enter  into  his  consciousness  any  notion  about  sensa- 
tion ?     No Does  he  perceive  that  the  thing  he  is  conscious  of 

is  an  image  of  the  book  1     Not  at  all So  long  as  he  refuses  to 

translate  facts  into  any  hypothesis,  he  feels  simply  conscious  of «  coloured 
and  extended  object^  and  not  of  an  impression  of  a  coloured  and  ex- 
tended object.  ....  He  feels  that  this  recognition  of  the  book  as  an 

external  coloured  and  extended  reality  is  a  single  indivisible  act 

And,  lastly,  he  feels  that  do  what  he  will,  he  cannot  reverse  this  act. 
....  Hence,  while  he  continues  looking  at  the  book,  his  belief  in  it 
as  a  coloured  and  extended  reality  possesses  the  highest  possible 
validity.  It  has  the  direct  guarantee  of  the  Universal  Postulate  ;  and 
it  assumes  the  Universal  Postulate  only  once.' 

This  argument  is  not,  as  I  have  shown,  a  particularly  good  one ; 
but  it  is  quite  as  good  when  devoted  to  proving  that  colour  and  exten- 
sion (which  are  both,  on  Mr.  Spencer's  theory,  subjective  affections) 
are  objective  realities,  as  it  is  when  used,  as  Mr.  Spencer  uses  it,  to 
prove  that  an  object  with  (I  presume)  no  knowable  qualities,  has  an 
independent  existence. 


See  Essays,  vol.  iii.  p.  286. 


CHAP,  xi.j    MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      251 

detain  us  long.  It  consists  in  the  main  of  a  psycho- 
logical theory  of  the  manner  in  which  we  obtain  our 
ideas  of  Subject  and  Object ;  and  a  single  quotation 
from  the  summary^  will  be  sufficient  to  show  its 
general  character.  *  Simply  by  a  process  of  obser- 
vation we  find,  that  our  states  of  consciousness 
segregate  into  two  independent  aggregates,  each 
held  together  by  some  principle  of  continuity  within 
it.  The  principle  of  continuity  forming  into  a  whole 
the  faint  states  of  consciousness,  moulding  and 
modifying  them  by  some  unknown  energy,  is  dis- 
tinguished as  the  Ego  ;  while  the  Non-ego  is  the 
principle  of  continuity  holding  together  the  inde- 
pendent aggregate  of  vivid  states.  And  we  find 
that  while  our  states  of  consciousness  cohere  into 
these  antithetical  aggregates,  the  experiences  gained 
by  mutual  exploration  of  the  limbs,  establish  such 
cohesion,  that  to  the  principle  of  continuity  mani- 
fested in  the  non-ego  there  inevitably  clings  a  nascent 
consciousness  of  force,  akin  to  the  force  evolved  by 
the  principle  of  continuity  in  the  ego! 

There  are  difficulties  in  this  conclusion,  as,  for 
instance,  the  absence  of  any  reason  which  should 
make  us  identify  ourselves  with  one  of  these  prin- 
ciples of  '  continuity '  rather  than  with  the  others ; 
and  there  is  also  much  material  for  criticism  in  the 
process  by  which  the  conclusion  is  arrived  at.'^     But, 

1  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  p.  487. 

2  Cf.  Articles   by  Professor  Green,  Contefuporary  Review y    Dec. 
1877,  March  1878. 


^32     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

in  truth,  the  whole  of  this  Psychology,  be  it  good  or 
be  it  bad,  is  irrelevant,  and  irrelevant  on  Mr.  Spencer's 
own  principles.  It  is  true  that  he  tells  us  ^  that  the 
*  absolute  validity '  of  Realism  '  will  be  shown  if  we 
find  it  to  be  a  necessary  product  of  thought  proceed- 
ing according  to  laws  that  are  universal,'  by  which 
he  means,  I  suppose,  that  our  warrant  for  believing 
in  Realism  is  the  fact  that  a  belief  in  it  is  universally 
produced  by  the  natural  operation  of  psychological 
laws.  But  this,  which  is  merely  an  instance  of  the 
persistent  error  which  makes  Philosophy  dependent 
on  Psychology,  does  not,  as  I  understand  it,  repre- 
sent Mr.  Spencer's  more  deliberate  opinion.  The 
real  warrant  on  which  he  believes  the  '  mysterious  '  ^ 
fact  that  'we  have  a  consciousness  of  something 
which  is  out  of  consciousness,'  is  that  he  is  obliged 
to  think  it  :  and  the  three  succeeding  chapters 
therefore  of  psychological  analysis  which  are  de- 
voted— not  to  showing  that  he  ought  to  think  it, 
but — to  showing  how  it  comes  about  that  he  is 
obliged  to  think  it — discuss  a  question  which  even 
from  his  own  point  of  view  can  have  no  philosophic 
interest  whatever.  With  regard  to  the  'warrant' 
itself,  it  is  the  same  as  that  which  was  discussed  at 
some  length  in  the  last  chapter,  and  no  more  need 
be  said  about  it  here.  It  is  the  '  inconceivability  W 
of  the  negation '  in  a  scarcely  altered  form.  A 

There  is  only  one  more    point  that  I  feel  in/ 

»  Psychology^  vol.  ii.  p.  445.  2  ibid.  p.  452. 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      233 

clined  to  touch  on  before  we  reach  the  final  stage  of 
the  discussion.  It  is  a  favourite  practice  with  Mr. 
Spencer,  whenever  he  happens  to  disbelieve  a  propo- 
sition, to  inform  those  who  do  believe  it  that  it  '  can- 
not be  realised  in  thought.'  It  would  be  interesting 
to  know  how  far  he  can  realise  in  thought  the 
'  mysterious  '  fact  of  *  a  consciousness  of  something 
which  is  yet  out  of  consciousness  ? '  To  ordinary 
people  it  might  be  open  to  say  that  they  believed 
it,  though  they  could  not  realise  it :  but  no  such 
reply  seems  possible  to  Mr.  Spencer.  He  is  of 
opinion  that  we  cannot  really  believe  a  proposition 
which  we  cannot  think,  and  that  we  cannot  think 
a  proposition  unless  the  subject  and  predicate  are 
realised  in  thought.^  Now  *  a  mode  of  being  sepa- 
rate from  myself  produces  changes  in  my  conscious 
states,'  is  one  proposition  in  which  I  understand 
him  to  believe.  '  This  mode  of  being,  since  it  is 
unknown  and  unknowable,  cannot  be  realised  in 
thought,'  is  another.  If  he  can  believe  the  first 
proposition  without  its  subject  being  realised  in 
thought,  his  general  theory  of  knowledge,  and  most 
of  the  positive  positions  contained  in  the  First  Prin- 
ciples^ must  be  abandoned.  If  he  cannot  believe 
it  except  on  those  terms,  then  either  he  is  wrong 
when  he  says  he  does  believe  it,  or  he  is  wrong  when 
he  supposes  that  it  is  incapable  of  being  realised  in 
thought.     He  would  seem  to  be  in  the  unfortunate 

1  Psychology y  vol.  ii.  p.  445.  2  j^j^j  ^jj^  jj 


234    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 


position  of  having  devised  a  theory  of  knowledge  in 
the  main  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  a  realistic 
system,  and  of  having  devised  a  realistic  system 
which  is  incompatible  with  his  theory  of  knowledge. 

That  he  is  not  unaware  of  the  difficulties  which 
surround  a  theory  according  to  which  we  know  the 
Unknowable,  I  admit ;  for  he  struggles,  not  very 
successfully,  to  get  over  them  in  his  First  Prin- 
ciples} by  the  help  of  such  metaphorical  expressions 
as  '  nascent  consciousness '  and  '  raw  material  of 
thought.'  My  complaint  is  that,  holding  these 
opinions,  he  considers  it  a  sufficient  answer  to  make 
to  any  belief  of  which  he  disapproves  that  its  terms 
cannot  be  '  realised  in  thought,'  or  *  be  joined  to- 
gether in  consciousness ' ;  though  neither  Theology 
nor  Metaphysics  contain,  so  far  as  I  know,  any 
proposition  of  which  these  things  can  more  truly  be 
said  than  the  propositions  respecting  the  external 
world,  which  Mr.  Spencer  assures  us  have  the 
*  highest  validity  possible.' 

We  now  come,  in  chapter  the  nineteenth  and 
last,  to  a  more  precise  account  of  what  this  external 
world  really  is.  As  the  reader  is  already  aware, 
Mr.  Spencer  holds,  in  the  first  place,  that  it  is  ^ 
unknown  and  unknowable ;  and,  in  the  second 
place,  notwithstanding  some  statements  which  seem 
to  assume  that  it  does  not  vary  at  alP  that  it 
varies  in  some  determinate  relation   to  the  known 

1  Cf.  especially,  ch.  iv.  «  Cf.  ch.  ii.  483. 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      235 

and  knowable.  The  question,  therefore,  imme- 
diately suggests  itself  how  we  come  to  have 
what  Mr.  Mill^  somewhere  calls  this  prodigious 
amount  of  knowledge  respecting  the  Unknowable  ? 
Grant  what  Mr.  Spencer  asks — and  admit  that  a 
belief  in  the  reality  of  an  independent  Universe  is 
valid — what  grounds  have  we  for  supposing  that  it 
is  precisely  the  kind  of  universe  he  postulates  and 
no  other  ?  Why  should  it  vary  in  a  determinate 
relation  to  phenomena  ?  Why,  indeed,  should  it 
vary  at  all  ? 

Perhaps  Mr.  Spencer  will  be  inclined  to  say 
(though  on  what  grounds  I  do  not  know)  that,  as 
the  cause  of  varying  effects,  the  object  must  itself 
vary.  But  from  the  preceding  chapter^  on  the 
Developed  Conception  of  the  Object,  we  have 
learned  that  the  object  is  the  *  principle  of  con- 
tinuity,' binding  together  the  'aggregate  of  our  vivid 
states  of  consciousness.'  A  principle  of  continuity 
is,  I  should  have  thought,  the  unvarying  element 
in  the  midst  of  incessant  variations.  If  it  varies 
itself,  must  it  not  require  another  principle  of  con- 
tinuity '  to  form  it,'  as  Mr.  Spencer  says,^  '  into  a 
whole '  ?  Furthermore,  if  the  object  varies,  does 
the  subject  vary  ?  Mr.  Spencer  represents  the  re- 
lation between  the  two  by  a  diagram,  which  he 
seems  to  think  affords  a  complete  illustration  of  it. 
It  consists  of  a  cube  (standing  for  the  Object),  a 

*  Cf.  e.  g.  p.  487.  2  Psychology,  vol.  ii.  487. 


236    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

cylinder  (standing  for  the  Subject),  and  a  reflection 
of  the  cube  on  the  surface  of  the  cylinder  (repre- 
senting our  'vivid  state  of  consciousness').  In  this 
case  the  cube  varies,  the  reflection  varies,  but  the 
cylinder  does  not  vary.  Are  we  to  regard  the 
parallel  as  in  this  particular  accurate  ?  If  so,  it 
would  be  interesting  to  know  on  what  grounds  Mr. 
Spencer  asserts  change  in  one  of  the  unknown 
*  Principles  of  Continuity,'  and  denies  it  in  the 
other. 

Again,  there  seems  some  difliculty  in  under- 
standing how  that  which  is  neither  in  Space  nor 
Time  can  be  a  cause  varying  with  the  Phenomenal 
effects  which  are  in  Space  and  Time.  Time  as  we 
know  it,  and  Space  as  we  know  it,  are  (it  is  stated 
in  the  First  Principles^)  conceptions  produced  in 
us  by  some  mode  of  the  Unknowable.  Since,  there- 
fore, we  are  not  to  imagine  that  the  Unknowable 
is  in  Time,  it  does  not  seem  easy  to  understand  how 
we  can  imagine  it  as  capable  of  change — change 
having  no  meaning  whatever  for  us,  except  in  rela- 
tion to  Time. 

This  criticism  suggests  the  further  reflection  that 
Mr.  Spencer's  Unknowable  is,  after  all,  not  identical 
with  the  subject-matter  of  physical  science.  Let 
us  take,  for  illustration,  some  simple  scientific  pro- 
position ;  e.g.,  *  particles  of  matter  vibrating  seven 
hundred  billions  of  times  a  second  produce  in  us  a 

*  Page  165. 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.       237 

sensation  of  violet,'  and  consider  it  in  this  connec- 
tion. The  particles  of  matter  thus  described  as 
causes  must,  it  is  plain,  be  either  in  consciousness 
or  out  of  it.  And  it  is  also  plain  that  they  are  not 
in  it,  except  in  the  shape  of  symbolical  concepts 
belonging  to  what  Mr.  Spencer  calls  the  *  faint  ag- 
gregate of  our  conscious  states  ' ;  in  which  condition 
they  cannot  either  be  permanent  or  produce  changes 
in  the  vivid  aggregate  of  the  kind  required.  As 
causes  of  sensation,  they  must  therefore  exist  out  of 
consciousness ;  whence  it  is  evident  that  they  must 
either  be  modes  of  the  unknowable,  or  else  that 
something  besides  the  unknowable  must  exist  be- 
yond consciousness.  If  Mr.  Spencer  accepts  the 
first  of  these  alternatives,  I  desire  to  know  why  he 
chooses  to  describe  that  which  exists  beyond  con- 
sciousness as  the  unknowable,  seeing  that  most  of 
the  knowledge  which  we  possess  professes  to  refer 
to  it;  if  he  accepts  the  second,  I  desire  to  know 
what  proof  he  can  supply  of  the  existence  of  such  a 
knowable  beyond  consciousness  at  all. 

To  put  the  same  difficulty  in  another  form. 
What  Science  requires  to  have  proved  is  the  exis- 
tence of  matter,  which  shall  be  independent  of  per- 
ception and  sensation,  shall  produce  perception  and 
sensation,  and  shall  at  the  same  time  possess  mass, 
solidity,  extension,  and  so  forth.  Is  this  matter 
Mr.  Spencer's  unknowable  ?  We  must  answer.  No. 
In  the  first  place  because,  according  to  Science,  it 


238     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 


is  decidedly  knowable  ;  in  the  second  place,  because 
Mr.    Spencer   tells   us^   that   the   matter   which  is 

*  extended  and  resistent  '  is  related  to  the  unknow- 
able as  effect  to  cause.  Is  it,  then,  the  knowable  ? 
Again,  we  must  answer.  No ;  because,  according 
to  Mr.  Spencer,  the  '  objective  agencies '  which  pro- 
duce our  *  subjective  affections '  are  in  themselves 

*  unknown  and  unknowable.' 

Mr.  Spencer's  elaborate  argument  is,  therefore, 
altogether  beside  the  mark.  In  proving  or,  I  should 
rather  say,  in  attempting  to  prove,  the  existence  of 
the  unknowable,  he  has  aimed  at  the  wrong  object. 
The  true  state  of  the  case  is  that  the  external  world 
required  by  Science  is  very  much  more  like  that 
contemplated  in  the  Crude  Realism  ^  (as  he  con- 
temptuously calls  it)  of  *  the  child  or  the  rustic '  than 
it  is  like  that  propounded  by  the  Transfigural  Rea- 
lism affected  by  himself  Even  admitting,  there- 
fore, that  the  arguments  establishing  the  latter  are 
as  unanswerable  as  he  supposes  them  to  be,  our 
philosophic  position  would  not  be  much  improved. 
If  the  scientific  creed  respecting  the  external  world 
be  rejected,  the  unknowable  will  hardly  save  us 
from  scepticism ;  while,  if  the  scientific  creed  be  ac- 
cepted, the  unknowable  is  foredoomed  to  the  same 
existence  of  otium  cum  dignitate,  which,  according 
to  Jacobi,  is  enjoyed  by  Kant's  *  thing  in  itself.' 

If  I  rightly  understand  the  line  of  thought  taken 

^  First  Principles ^  pp.  i66,  167.  '^  Psychology^  vol.  ii.  p.  452. 


CHAP.  XI.]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      239 

up  in  the  First  Principles^  Mr.  Spencer  would  reply- 
to  this  by  saying  that  matter  as  known  to  us,  and  as 
dealt  with  by  Science,  may  be  regarded  as  permanent 
and  independent  because  it  is  the  effect  of  the  un- 
knowable cause  which  is  permanent  and  independent. 
But,  according  to  Mr.  Spencer's  doctrines,  the  only 
effects  of  the  unknowable  of  which  we  have  imme- 
diate knowledge  consist  of  '  subjective  affections,' 
which  are  neither  permanent  nor  independent.  These 
are  not  the  subject-matter  of  physical  science.  When 
a  Physicist  asserts  that  vibrating  molecules  produce 
the  sensation  of  violet  light,  he  means  that  certain 
material  particles  which  are  not,  which  never  have 
been,  and  which  never  will  be  in  (human)  conscious- 
ness, and  which  would  vibrate  precisely  as  they  are 
doing  now  if  (human)  consciousness  was  destroyed, 
produce  certain  conscious  phenomena.  What  Mr. 
Spencer  must  think  that  they  ought  to  mean  by  the 
assertion  is,  that  a  mode  of  the  unknowable  which  is 
symbolised  (and,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  quite  arbitrarily 
symbolised)  by  the  member  of  the  '  faint  aggregate 
of  our  conscious  state '  known  as  the  concept  of  a 
vibrating  particle,  is  the  producing  cause  of  a 
'  member  of  the  vivid  aggregate '  known  as  the  sensa- 
tion of  violet  light.  No  verbal  contrivance  can  bridge 
over  the  discrepancy  between  two  statements,  one 
of  which  says  that  the  cause  of  a  phenomenon  is  a 
vibrating  material  particle,  and  the  other  that  it  is 

^  First  Principles ^"^^1^^, 


240    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  ii. 

an  entity  possessing  none  of  the  attributes  of  matter, 
and  which,  since  it  is  neither  in  space  nor  time,  must 
be  incapable  of  vibration.  These  are  propositions 
which  assert  different  things,  and  not  merely  the 
same  thing  in  different  language,  so  that  Mr.  Spencer, 
even  if  he  had  proved  the  truth  of  the  second,  would 
have  done  nothing  towards  establishing  a  realism 
such  as  is  required  by  current  scientific  doctrines. 

*  The  final  remark  to  be  made/  says  Mr.  Spencer,^ 
*  is  that  Anti- Realistic  beliefs  have  never  been  held 

at  all Berkeley  was  not  an   Idealist 

Nor  was  Kant  a  Kantist'  Nor,  I  will  venture  to 
add,  is  Mr.  Spencer  a  Transfigured-Realist.  With- 
out doubt  the  natural  beliefs  which  in  his  ordinary 
moments  hold  a  not  less  undisputed  sway  over  the 
philosopher  than  they  do  over  the  *  child  or  the 
rustic,*  will  be  as  victorious  against  Mr.  Spencer's 
doctrines  as  they  are  against  those  of  any  of  the 
metaphysicians  whom  he  accuses  of  losing  them- 
selves in  the  *  mazes  of  verbal  propositions.'^  On 
the  whole,  indeed,  he  is  less  fortunate  than  they. 
For  it  is  his  singular  ill  fortune  to  have  failed  with 
entire  completeness  in  all  the  objects  which  a  man 
may  propose  to  himself  in  constructing  a  theory  of 
the  external  world.  Some  may  wish  to  justify  the 
common  sense  of  mankind,  some  to  justify  the 
teachings  of  Science,  some  to  prove  the  being  of 
a  God,  some  to  give  free  rein  to  speculation  with- 
out any   secondary   object.      It   was    reserved    for 

*  Psycholo^y^  voU  ii.  p.  300.  «  Ibid. 


CHAP.  XL]     MR.  SPENCER'S  PROOF  OF  REALISM.      241 

Mr.  Spencer  to  elaborate  a  theory  which  can  pre- 
tend to  justify  the  assumption  neither  of  the  man 
of  science  nor  of  the  theologian,  and  which  will 
satisfy  the  requirements  neither  of  the  ordinary  man 
nor  of  the  philosopher. 

Looking  back  over  the  nineteen  chapters  we 
have  been  considering,  and  over  the  earlier  half  of 
the  First  Principles,  it  is  impossible  not  to  regret 
that  the  ambition  to  produce  a  '  System  of  Phi- 
losophy '  should  have  forced  our  author  into  paths 
where  his  remarkable  powers  of  mind  show  to  com- 
paratively small  advantage.  Could  he  have  been 
content  with  giving  to  the  world  '  Suggestions  to- 
wards a  theory  of  the  Universe  on  the  basis  of  the 
ordinary  scientific  postulates,'  his  astonishing  faculty 
for  collecting  from  every  department  of  knowledge 
the  facts  which  seem  to  tell  in  his  favour  would  have 
had  free  scope,  while  his  somewhat  blunted  sensi- 
bility in  the  matter  of  difficulties  and  contradictions 
might  have  been  of  actual  advantage.  In  trespassing 
on  metaphysical  ground,  the  virtues  which  he  pos- 
sesses as  a  thinker — his  extraordinary  range  of  in- 
formation and  his  ingenuity  in  framing  original  and 
suggestive  hypotheses — become  comparatively  use- 
less, while  the  robust  faith  in  his  method  and  results 
by  which  he  is  animated,  necessary  as  I  admit  it  to 
be  ifi  order  that  he  may  be  sustained  through  his 
protracted  labours  — is  from  a  speculative  point  of 
view  an  almost  unmixed  evil 

R 


242     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 


PART   III. 
CHAPTER  XII. 

SCIENCE  AS  A   LOGICAL   SYSTEM. 

The  reader  will  recollect  that  the  only  quality  of  ob- 
jects  for  the  existence  of  which  in  the  first  instance 
we  required  proof  was  their  persistence.  In  point 
of  fact  no  philosopher  has  set  himself  to  prove  this 
without  at  the  same  time  attempting  to  prove  much 
more,  and  as  a  necessary  result,  the  foregoing  exami- 
nation of  realistic  systems  has  contained  allusions, 
more  or  less  frequent,  to  other  and  equally  essential 
attributes  of  what  is  called  *  the  external  world.' 
It  is  now  time  to  desert  the  philosophers,  and  to 
say  a  few  words  about  this  '  external  world,'  as  it  is 
dealt  with  by  Science — not  for  the  purpose  of  deter- 
mining how  far  Science  is  justified  in  assuming  its 
reality,  for  this  question  has  been  already  discussed, 
— but  in  order  to  obtain  some  idea  of  the  general 
character  of  the  existing  scientific  system  regarded 
as  a  logical  whole. 

Granting,  then,  the  reality  of  an  external  world, 
let  us  ask,  in  the  first  place,  what  is  its  real  nature 
according  to  modern  scientific  teaching  ? 


CHAP.  XII.]       SCIENCE  AS  A  LOGICAL  SYSTEM.  243 

Speaking  generally,  it  consists,  we  are  told,  of 
atoms  possessing  mass,  chemical  affinity,  and  other 
qualities  ;  and  of  a  universally  diffused  medium,  called 
ether,  which,  by  means  of  certain  very  singular  pro- 
perties, transmits  through  space  certain  vibrations  by 
which  these  atoms  are  affected. 

Associated  together  by  various  laws  in  various 
groups,  these  atoms  constitute  the  solid,  liquid,  and 
gaseous  bodies  scattered  through  space  ;  from  among 
the  infinite  number  of  which  there  is  to  each  man 
assigned  one  of  especial  importance  to  himself; — I 
mean  his  own  organism.  The  very  interesting  class 
of  objects  to  which  these  belong,  do  not  differ  from 
the  rest  of  the  material  universe  in  the  nature  of 
their  ultimate  composition.  In  many  other  most  im- 
portant respects  no  doubt  they  do  differ,  But  the 
peculiarity  about  them  with  which  at  this  moment 
we  are  specially  concerned  is  the  fact,  that  they  are 
the  immediate  channels  of  communication  between 
the  world  I  have  just  described,  and  the  thinking 
beings  who  by  their  means  are  made  acquainted 
directly  with  the  appearance  of  that  world,  and  in- 
directly with  its  true  nature  and  constitution. 

Before  going  further  in  the  consideration  of  the 
general  system  of  Science,  it  may  be  as  well  to  remind 
the  reader  how  unlike  the  world  just  described  is  to 
the  world  which  we  actually  perceive,  or  can  repre- 
sent by  an  effort  of  the  imagination.  I  do  not  of 
course  mean  to  say  that  the  world  of  perception  and 

R   2 


244    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 

the  world  of  science  are  numerically  distinct.  This 
Is  evidently  not  so.  When  astronomers  talk  of  the 
moon,  they  mean  the  moon  we  see  ;  when  chemists 
talk  of  elementary  substances,  they  mean  things 
we  can  touch  and  handle.  But  when  they  go  on  to 
tell  us  about  the  Intimate  structure  of  these  bodies 
they  are  soon  compelled  to  use  words  which  have 
only  a  symbolic  meaning,  and  to  refer  to  objects 
which  (It  may  be)  can  be  thoicght,  but  which  cer- 
tainly cannot  In  their  real  nature  be  either  perceived 
or  Imagined. 

That  knowledge  or  what  passes  for  knowledge 
soon  gets  In  this  way  beyond  the  data  of  perception 
and  the  powers  of  Imagination,  Is  a  fact  which  comes 
to  the  surface  more  prominently  In  Theology  perhaps 
than  In  Science.  I  am  not  aware  that  this  Is  because 
there  Is  any  essential  philosophic  difference  between 
these  two  great  departments  of  knowledge.  It 
arises  rather  from  the  fact  that,  for  controversial  pur- 
poses. It  has  been  found  convenient  to  dwell  on  the 
circumstance  that  our  idea  of  the  Deity  Is  to  a  certain 
extent  necessarily  anthropomorphic,  while  the  no  less 
certain,  If  somewhat  less  obvious,  truth  that  our  idea 
of  the  external  world  is  also  anthropomorphic,  does 
not  supply  any  ready  argumentative  weapon. 

There  are,  however,  further  reasons  why  this  side 
of  the  case  has  not  received  so  much  attention  as  the 
other.  One  of  them  is,  I  think,  that  any  person 
speculating  on  this  subject  is  apt  to  slide  away  from 


CHAP.  XII.]       SCIENCE  AS  A  LOGICAL  SYSTEM.  245 

it  into  the  allied  but  altogether  distinct  questions 
concerning  Realism  and  Idealism.  These  are  prob- 
lems, however,  the  solution  of  which  has  no  direct 
bearing  upon  the  subject  we  are  now  discussing. 
Whether  Realism  or  Idealism  be  true,  whether 
either  of  them  or  both  of  them  are  consistent  with 
Science,  this  broad  fact  remains,  that  the  world  as 
represented  to  us  by  Science  can  no  more  be  per- 
ceived or  imagined  than  the  Deity  as  represented  to 
us  by  Theology,  and  that  in  the  first  case,  as  in  the 
second,  we  must  content  ourselves  with  symbolical 
images,  of  which  the  thing  we  can  most  certainly  say 
is  that  they  are  not  only  inadequate  but  incorrect. 

This  is  not  an  assertion  which  in  reality  requires 
much  argument  to  support  it.  Its  truth  is  apparent 
on  simple  inspection,  and  it  applies  equally  to  the 
two  main  constituents  of  the  external  world — to 
Matter  as  well  as  to  Force, 

To  begin  with  the  latter.  Force  according  to 
Science  is  the  cause  of  all  motion,  and  its  amount  in 
any  case  is  measured  by  the  amount  of  motion  it 
produces  or  can  produce  in  a  given  time.  Now,  it 
is  evident  that  we  come  most  closely  into  contact 
(so  to  speak)  with  Force,  either  when  we  see  one 
body  foreign  to  ourselves  exercising  force  upon 
another,  as  for  example,  a  locomotive  engine  pulling 
a  coal  waggon,  or  when  we  feel  pressure  between  our 
bodies  and  some  foreign  substance — that,  for  ex- 
ample, produced  by  a  tight  boot — (this  pressure  not 


246    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 

being  the  result  of  energy  supplied  by  our  bodies),  or 
when  we  exercise  effort  so  as  to  produce  pressure 
between  our  bodies  and  some  foreign  substance,  for 
example,  by  raising  a  weight ;  which  pressure  is  the 
result  of  energy  supplied  by  our  bodies.  If  we  can- 
not perceive  force  in  one  at  least  of  these  cases,  we 
cannot,  I  apprehend,  perceive  it  at  all ;  and  if  we 
cannot  perceive  it  at  all,  it  will  probably  be  admitted 
that  our  ideas  respecting  it  must  be  purely  anthropo- 
morphic, and  only  symbolical  of  the  reality. 

Without  wearying  the  reader  by  examining  these 
three  cases  in  detail,  it  may  be  assumed,  I  imagine, 
without  further  discussion  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
our  idea  of  force  is  derived  in  the  last  resort  entirely 
from  the  second  and  third  :  so  that  if  we  had  never 
either  felt  pressure  or  exercised  muscular  effort,  we 
should  be  altogether  unable  to  frame  a  mental 
image  which  should  in  any  way  correspond  with  the 
subject-matter  of  dynamics.  Does  the  idea  so  de- 
rived correspond  with  the  reality  ?  The  common 
opinion  seems  to  be  that,  though  it  only  symbolises 
the  force  which  acts  between  inanimate  bodies,  it 
resembles  the  force  which  is  exerted  by,  or  acts  on, 
living  organisms.  But  this,  I  apprehend,  is  incorrect. 
There  can  be  no  resemblance  between  the  mental 
images,  whether  of  pressure  or  of  effort,  and  that 
external  and  independent  force  which  they  are  em- 
ployed to  represent.  Why  should  the  feeling  (said 
to  be)  of  pressure  be  like  the  pressure  which  pro- 


CHAP.  XII.]      SCIENCE  AS  A  LOGICAL  SYSTEM.  247 

duces  It  ?  It  is  not  force,  it  is  one  of  the  effects  of 
force  acting  on  our  organism  :  it  does  not  even  vary 
directly  with  the  force  which  produces  it,  but  de- 
pends on  the  part  of  the  body  affected  and  on  other 
circumstances.  Neither  is  the  feeHng  of  muscular 
effort,  Force  ;  it  is  rather  one  of  the  mental  accom- 
paniments of  muscular  action  when  that  action  is  set 
going  by  the  Will.  I  do  not  even  see  how  it  can  be 
accurately  called  a  cause  of  Force  :  but  without  going 
into  this  question,  which  is  not  material  to  my  argu- 
ment, it  seems  certain  that  whether  it  be  cause  or 
merely  accompaniment,  it  must  at  all  events  be  dis- 
tinct from  that  which  it  causes  or  accompanies. 

If  then  we  try  and  represent  to  ourselves  in 
imagination  the  reality  which  is  expressed  by  this 
assertion,  '  the  inkstand  presses  on  the  table  with  a 
force  of  two  pounds,'  our  idea  of  what  is  taking  place, 
if  we  form  such  an  idea  at  all,  will  in  all  probability 
be  entirely  false  for  two  separate  reasons.  In  the 
first  place,  we  shall  introduce  notions  of  pressure  and 
muscular  effort,  which  have  no  imaginable  meaning 
for  us,  except  as  affections  of  a  living  organism,  into 
the  relation  which  exists  between  portions  of  inani- 
mate matter :  and  secondly,  we  shall  deal  with  feel- 
ings of  pressure  and  muscular  effort  as  if  they  were 
force,  or,  at  all  events,  resembled  force,  instead  of 
being  only  now  and  then  related  to  force,  as  causes, 
as  effects,  or  as  accompaniments. 

If  now  from  Force  we  turn  to  Matter,  we  find 


248     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 

somewhat  similar  limits  fixed  to  our  powers  of  imagi- 
nation. It  is  true  that  we  find  no  difificulty  in  form- 
ing an  idea  of  matter  as  matter  appears  to  us ;  while 
in  the  case  of  force,  since  it  never  appears  to  us,  we 
cannot  even  do  this  much.  But  if,  instead  of  framing 
an  idea  of  matter  as  we  perceive  it^  we  try  to  frame 
an  idea  of  it  as  Science  assures  us  that  it  really  is, 
we  soon  become  conscious  that  we  are  attempting 
an  impossibility.  Of  this  impossibility  there  are  two 
kinds  or  degrees.  In  some  cases,  for  example,  we 
may  be  convinced  that  Matter  has  certain  qualities, 
because  we  observe  effects  which  require  an  hypo- 
thesis of  this  kind  in  order  to  account  for  them.  But 
as  to  what  these  qualities  may  be,  apart  from  their 
effects,  we  not  only  cannot  imagine,  but  we  do  not  even 
know  how  to  try  and  imagine.  We  have  nothing  to 
go  upon.  Our  senses  and  our  reason  alike  fail  us  ; 
and  it  would  be  more  accurate  perhaps  to  say  that  we 
have  no  ideas  corresponding  to  them  at  all  than  to 
say  that  our  ideas  of  them  are  anthropomorphic. 
What,  for  example,  is  chemical  affinity  ?  What  is 
the  real  nature  of  the  change  which  takes  place  in  a 
copper  wire  when  an  electric  current  passes  along 
it  ?  What  is  magnetism  '^,  Science  has  at  present 
no  certain  answer  to  give  to  these  questions  :  but 
there  are  other  questions  respecting  matter  to  which 
the  true  answers  are  known  with  a  considerable 
degree  of  scientific  probability,  though  at  the  same 
time  they  carry  us  not  the  less  into   regions  where 


CHAP.  XII.]       SCIENCE  AS  A  LOGICAL  SYSTEM.  249 

the  imagination  is  unable  to  follow  them.  For  ex- 
ample, we  are  required  to  believe  (no  doubt  on 
excellent  grounds)  that  the  sensation  of  coloured 
light  is  produced  by  material  particles  vibrating  with 
a  certain  rapidity,  and  that  the  varieties  of  colour  are 
the  result  of  differences  in  the  rapidity  and  combina- 
tions of  these  vibrations  when  they  reach  the  eye. 
It  is  a  necessary  consequence  of  this  doctrine,  that 
the  vibi'ating  particles  must  themselves  be  regarded 
as  having  no  colour  :  their  colour  being  merely  the 
effect  produced  on  our  particular  organism  by  their 
rapid  periodic  motion  acting  through  space  by  means 
of  the  diffused  ether.  But  the  smallest  trial  is 
sufficient  to  convince  us  that  to  represent  in  imagi- 
nation uncoloured  vibrating  atoms  is  a  task  alto- 
gether beyond  our  powers.  The  other  senses,  touch 
or  '  the  muscular  sense,'  through  which  we  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  material  objects,  are  altogether  incapa- 
ble of  supplying  the  elements  necessary  for  such  a 
purpose,  at  least  they  are  so  with  me ;  and  it  is  of 
course  impossible  to  bring  in  the  sense  of  sight  to 
their  assistance  without  at  the  same  time  representing 
as  coloured  the  things  we  are  attempting  to  imagine. 
There  is  no  similar  difficulty  in  the  parallel  case  of 
heat.  Heat,  no  les's  than  light,  exists  in  the  material 
world  as  a  mode  of  motion.  Yet  it  is  easy  to  sepa- 
rate in  idea  the  vibrating  particles  from  the  sensation 
of  warmth,  and  to  consider  one  as  the  cause  of  the 
other.     We  are  not  compelled,  as  in  the  case   of 


2SO    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 

light,  by  the  laws  of  imagination,  to  confonnd  the 
effect  with  the  cause  before  we  can  picture  to  our- 
selves the  cause  of  all. 

This  particular  weakness  or  defect  in  our  power 
of  representation  affects,  it  will  be  observed,  our 
ideas  of  the  whole  material  universe.  There  is  not 
a  single  particle  of  Matter  which  we  can  either  per- 
ceive or  picture  to  ourselves  as  it  really  exists  :  and 
as  a  similar  assertion  can,  as  I  have  shown,  be  made 
about  Force  ;  and  as  it  can  be  made  with  still  more 
obvious  truth  about  the  more  occult  kinds  or  proper- 
ties of  external  objects  (ether,  magnetism,  and  so 
forth),  I  think  I  may  consider  the  thesis  which  in 
this  long  digression  I  set  out  to  prove,  as  sufficiently 
established. 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  proper  subject  of  the 
present  chapter,  namely.  Science  considered  in  its 
most  general  aspect  as  a  Logical  System.  We  have 
seen  what,  according  to  scientific  teaching,  is  the 
real  nature  of  the  external  world  (as  for  convenience 
I  here  call  it) ;  and  we  have  seen  that  as  it  really 
is,  it  can  neither  be  perceived  nor  imagined.  It  is 
easy  to  conclude  from  this,  what  indeed  is  patent  to 
everybody,  that  we  arrive  at  our  actual  knowledge  of 
its  real  nature,  not  immediately,  but  by  a  process  of 
inference.  That  material  objects  consist  of  minute 
particles  ;  that  colour  is  the  effect  of  the  vibration  of 
these  particles  ;  that  these  vibrations  are  transmitted 
as  through   an   elastic  and  imponderable  medium  : 


CHAP.  XII.]       SCIENCE  AS  A  LOGICAL  SYSTEM.  251 

that,  in  short,  the  world  is  what  it  is,  are  truths  which, 
far  from  being  intuitive,  must  be  considered  as  the 
most  refined  deductions,  as  the  latest  triumphs,  of 
scientific  investigation. 

What,  then,  are  these  deductions  founded  on  ? 
Men  of  science,  who  should  be  authorities  on  this 
point,  inform  us  that  they  are  founded  on  facts 
obtained  by  direct  observation  ;  and  that  the  facts 
obtained  by  direct  observation  consist  of  what  we 
can  perceive  of  the  qualities  and  behaviour  of 
objects  whose  persistence,  for  the  sake  of  argument, 
we  are  agreed  to  assume.  In  othet  words,  our  settled 
view  of  the  universe  is  inferred  from  what  we  know 
of  it  hmnediately ;  and  what  we  know  of  it  imme- 
diately is  its  appearance. 

Now  the  singular  thing  about  this  sort  of  reason- 
ing is,  that  unless  the  premises  be  true,  there  seems 
no  particular  ground  for  accepting  the  conclusion ; 
while  if  the  conclusion  be  accepted,  it  is  evident  that 
the  premises  cannot  be  entirely  true.  Unless  ap- 
pearances are  to  be  trusted,  why  should  we  believe 
in  Science  ?  If  Science  is  true,  how  can  we  trust  to 
appearances  ? 

From  the  scientific  point  of  view  it  may  possibly  be 
replied,  that  our  immediate  knowledge  of  the  external 
world  is  in  part  to  be  trusted — but  only  in  part.  We 
know  by  direct  observation — and  know  truly^-of  the 
existence  of  extended,  resisting,  and  moving  bodies  ; 
and  we  know,  by  a  process  of  scientific  inference,  that 


252     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  iil 

the  qualities  of  colour  and  so  forth,  which  these 
extended,  resisting,  and  moving  bodies  appear  to 
possess,  are  really  the  subjective  effects  of  the  inter- 
action between  them  and  our  organism.  So  that 
Science  may  be  said  to  provide  us  with  a  criterion 
by  which  we  may  distinguish  between  that  which 
both  seems  to  be  and  is,  and  that  which  seems  to  be, 
but  is  Hot. 

Now  that  we  do  in  practice  so  use  Science  to 
enable  us  to  distinguish  between  reality  and  ap- 
pearance, is  undoubtedly  the  fact.  But  taken  by 
itself,  this  circumstance  affords  no  real  solution  of 
the  difficulty,  because  the  very  thing  we  want  more 
particularly  to  know  is,  how  we  can  thus  legitimately 
erect  Science  into  a  judge  of  its  own  cause. 

The  precise  question  which  has  to  be  answered, 
and  the  Insufficiency  of  this,  the  first  and  most 
natural  answer  to  it,  will  become  obvious  to  anyone 
who  reflects  on  the  following  series  of  propositions, 
which  extend  and  define  the  argument,  whose  out- 
line I  have  just  Indicated  : 

1st.  Scientific  knowledge  which  Is  not  imme- 
diate Is  derived  by  Inference  from  the  Immediate 
knowledge  furnished  by  observations  of  the  external 
world.  (This  I  apprehend  Is  the  view  ordinarily 
taken  by  men  of  science.) 

2nd.  Observations  of  the  external  world  assure 
us  (If  they  assure  us  of  anything)  that  bodies  exist 
which  are  coloured,  extended,  resisting,  and  so  forth. 


CHAP.  XII.]      SCIENCE  AS  A  LOGICAL  SYSTEM.  253 

3rd.  The  assurance  we  obtain  by  pure  observa- 
tion that  bodies  are  coloured,  is  of  precisely  the 
same  kind  as  is  the  assurance  we  obtain  from  the 
same  source,  that  they  are  extended  and  resisting. 
(That  this  Is  so  cannot  of  course  be  proved,  but  will 
be  evident  to  everybody  on  reflection.) 

4th.  While  pure  observation  shows  this,  in- 
ferences professing  to  be  derived  In  the  main  from 
pure  observation  show  us  that  bodies  are  not  coloured, 
but  that  the  appearance  of  colour  is  produced  by 
motions  or  other  changes  In  the  uncoloured  particles 
composing  the  object  perceived  and  the  organism  of 
the  percipient.  (This  must  be  admitted  if  Science  Is 
true,  and  If  It  Is  derived  from  observation.) 

5th.  From  this  it  follows  that  some  of  the  im- 
mediate knowledge  given  in  observation  is  untrust- 
worthy. 

6th.  According  to  (4)  there  is  nothing  In  the 
observations  themselves  to  suggest  any  principle  of 
distinction  between  those  which,  according  to  Science 
are,  and  those  which  are  not,  trustworthy. 

7."  Neither  Is  it  possible  that  such  a  principle  of 
distinction  should  be  furnished  by  Science,  since  it  is 
only  if  the  principle  of  distinction  be  sound  that 
Science  Is  logically  justified.  It  is  not  admissible  to 
make  Science  depend  on  the  principle  (whatever  it 
may  be),  at  the  same  time  that  we  make  the  principle 
depend  upon  Science. 

Stated  in  this  form,  the  exact  nature  of  the  diffi- 


254    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 

culty  I  wish  to  point  out  becomes  evident  ;  and  if  it 
is  not  one  that  forces  itself  readily  on  the  attention, 
this  is  because  it  does  not  attach  to  the  received 
theory  of  the  causal  origin  of  our  knowledge  of  the 
material  world  (which  is  the  one  that  habitually 
regulates  our  thoughts),  but  only  to  the  theory  of  the 
logical  deduction  of  scientific  doctrine  from  empirical 
data,  which  is  not  a  subject  with  which  we  are  usually 
much  concerned.  Let  me  explain.  When  we  are 
occupied  with  the  consideration  of  how  we  come  to 
possess  the  knowledge  we  have  of  the  external  world, 
if  we  are  in  a  scientific  rather  than  in  a  metaphysical 
humour,  we  immediately  and  naturally  look  at  the 
question  from  the  poipt  of  view  of  the  physiology  of 
perception  ;  and  the  physiology  of  perception,  in  its 
most  general  form,  teaches  us  this — that  the  imme- 
diate antecedent  to  an  act  of  perception  is  some 
definite  change  in  the  organism  of  the  percipient  ; 
and  that  if  this  change  occurs,  no  matter  how  it  is 
originated,  the  particular  perception  corresponding 
to  it  will  occur  likewise.  Now  the  same  kind  of 
change  may  at  different  times  have  different  sets  of 
causes.  If  on  any  given  occasion  one  of  the  proxi- 
mate causes  of  the  physiological  change  producing 
the  perception  is  the  thing  perceived,  then  percep- 
tion is  said  to  be  normal.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
thing  perceived  is  not  one  of  the  proximate  causes 
of  the  physiological  change,  then  we  are  said  to  be 
deceived  by  an  illusion  of  the  senses.     Supposing,  for 


CHAP.  XII.]      SCIENCE  AS  A  LOGICAL  SYSTEM.  255 

example,  that  I  see  the  moon  when  she  is  actually  in 
the  field  of  view,  and  her  rays  are  striking  on  my 
retina,  then  the  object  seen  is  one  of  the  causes  of  my 
seeing  it,  and  the  immediate  knowledge  conveyed  to 
me  in  that  act  of  perception  is  so  far  accurate.  But  if 
(to  take  the  opposite  case),  I  see  a  ghost,  then,  on  the 
supposition  that  there  are  no  such  things,  I  am 
suffering  under  an  optical  delusion,  since,  whatever 
may  be  the  causes  of  the  physiological  change  which 
results  in  that  act  of  perception,  it  cannot  at  all 
events  be  the  object  perceived,  which  by  hypothesis 
has  no  existence. 

This  is  the  physiological  theory  of  perception 
looked  at  from  its  causal  or  physical  side.  Looked 
at  from  its  cognitive  or  mental  side,  it  suggests  the 
idea  that  there  is,  on  the  one  hand,  a  Material  Uni- 
verse>  and  on  the  other  a  Mind  ;  and  that  the  Mind 
obtains  its  information  respecting  the  Material  Uni- 
verse by  looking  at  it  through  the  medium  of  the 
five  senses, — a  medium  which  altogether  excludes  a 
great  deal,  and  distorts  much  of  what  it  allows  to 
pass.  I  am  not  here  pretending  to  criticise  this 
theory.  In  common  with  most  theories  which  give 
an  account  of  the  origin  of  knowledge,  it  has  a  logical 
defect,  which  I  shall  attempt  to  explain  in  the  next 
chapter.  It  has  also,  no  doubt,  philosophical  diffi- 
culties peculiar  to  itself  But  what  I  am  concerned 
to  show  here  is,  that  so  far  from  presenting  any  diffi- 
culties in   the  way  of  a  belief  according  to  which  a 


2  56    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 

distinction  is  made  between  what  appears  and  what 
is,  it  actually  suggests  such  a  belief ;  and  that  there- 
fore it  is  not  surprising  that  since  we  habitually  think 
in  terms  (so  to  speak)  of  this  theory,  we  should  be 
little  troubled  by  the  discrepancy  I  have  shown  to 
exist  between  the  empirical  premises  of  Science  and 
its  received  conclusions. 

It  has  been  already  pointed  out  that  this  dis- 
crepancy cannot  be  smoothed  away  by  any  prin- 
ciple supplied  by  Science  itself,  except  at  the  cost  of 
arguing  in  a  circle.  But  it  may  perhaps  be  thought 
that  the  whole  scientific  doctrine  of  matter,  and  of 
the  methods  by  which  the  properties  of  matter  be- 
come known  to  us,  may  be  legitimately  put  forward 
as  a  hypothesis,  and  may  be  capable  of  verification, 
like  other  hypotheses,  by  an  appeal  to  experience ; 
and  that  in  this  way  the  objection  I  have  been  urging 
may  be  successfully  evaded. 

Let  me  consider  the  subject  for  a  moment  from 
this  point  of  view.  The  reasoning  to  which  I  object 
asserts  that  the  laws  governing  material  phenomena 
are  inferred  from  the  immediate  knowledge  of  matter 
given  in  perception,  and  at  the  same  time  that  the 
laws  so  inferred  show  this  knowledge  to  be  in  certain 
particulars  incorrect.  The  reasoning  which  it  is 
proposed  to  substitute  for  this  asserts  that  some  at 
least  of  the  laws  governing  material  phenomena,  and 
more  especially  those  which  are  included  in  the 
physiological  theory  of  perception,  are  not  inferred 
from  the  knowledge   given  in  perception,    but   are 


CHAP.  XII.]       SCIENCE -AS  A  LOGICAL  SYSTEM.  257 

adopted  as  a  hypothesis  to  account  for  the  fact,  that 
such  and  such  perceptions  exist, — a  function  which 
they  perform  so  successfully  that  they  may  be  ac- 
cepted as  to  all  intents  and  purposes  demonstrated 
truths. 

This  mode  of  establishing  the  laws  of  matter  is 
identical  in  its  general  scope  with  that  adopted  by 
certain  philosophers  to  prove  the  reality  of  the  ex- 
ternal world  ;  although  the  difficulty  which  suggests 
its"  adoption  is  different  in  the  two  case^.  The  phi- 
losophers of  whom  I  speak  were  of  opinion  that  we 
could  perceive  nothing  beyond  our  own  ideas,  and 
they  sought  to  avoid  an  idealistic  conclusion  by 
supposing  that  an  objective  cause  was  required  to 
account  for  the  fact  that  our  ideas  exist.  The 
scientific  argument,  on  the  other  hand,  with  which  I 
am  at  present  concerned,  is  not  put  forward  in  order 
to  avoid  a  psychological  difficulty^  but  a  logical  one. 
It  is  not  required  because  introspective  analysis 
shows  this  thing  or  that  thing  respecting  the  true 
nature  of  perception,  but  because  the  conclusions  of 
Science,  if  made  to  depend  solely  on  the  immediate 
knowledge  given  in  perception,  do  not,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  harmonise  with  their  premises. 

Now,  in  order  to  estimate  properly  the  value  of 
the  argument  by  which  this  difficulty  is  sought  to  he 
evadedj  we  must  ignore  the  information  given  im- 
mediately by  perception  respecting  the  nature  of  the 
external  causes  by   which   perception    is  produced. 

s 


258    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 

This  is  evident,  because  the  difficulty  itself  arose 
from  our  attempting  to  rest  scientific  doctrine  on 
this  information. 

We  are  expected,  then,  to  found  a  theory  re- 
specting the  true  nature  of  these  external  causes 
solely  on  the  fact  that  their  effects,  i.e.,  our  percep- 
tions, are  of  such  and  such  a  character.  Now  this 
undertaking  we  may,  I  think,  boldly  assert  to  be 
impossible  ;  and  if  there  is  any  doubt  about  the 
matter,  it  may  be  set  at  rest  by  this  single  consider- 
ation, that  if  two  causes  capable  of  producing  the 
effect  to  be  accounted  for  (namely,  our  perceptions), 
be  suggested,  there  is  no  possible  way  of  deciding 
between  them.  Supposing,  for  example  (to  revive 
an  old  speculation),  it  was  maintained  that  it  is  not 
matter  possessed  of  certain  properties  which  is  the 
required  cause,  but  the  Deity  acting  directly  on  our 
minds.  What  reply  could  be  made  to  such  a  sup- 
position ?  The  immediate  answer  that  rises  to  our 
lips  is,  that  we  know  that  matter  exists,  and  that  we 
have  no  such  knowledge  about  the  Deity.  But  how 
do  we  know  that  matter  exists  ?  Because  we  per- 
ceive it  ?  This  source  of  knowledge  is  excluded  by 
hypothesis :  nor  can  I  imagine  any  other,  of  an 
empirical  kind,  except  the  one  we  are  at  the  moment 
discussing.  It  must  further  be  recollected  that  we 
have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  limits  of  imagin- 
ation represent  on  this  subject  the  limits  of  possi- 
bility. Nor  is  it  practicable,  as  I  pointed  out  in  the 
chapter  on   Historical   Inference,  by  the  mere  con- 


CHAP.  XII.]       SCIENCE  AS  A  LOGICAL  SYSTEM.  259 

templation  of  an  effect  (and  It  is  to  this  that  we  are 
in  the  present  case  restricted)  to  discover  all  the 
causes  by  which  it  might  conceivably  have  been 
produced,  or  to  determine  which  of  these  possible 
causes,  known  or  unknown,  actually  produced  it. 

If,  then,  we  cannot  argue  from  the  mere  fact  that 
perceptions  exist  to  the  fact  that  material  objects 
corresponding  to  them  exist,  neither  is  it  possible  to 
argue  from  the  fact  that  these  perceptions  are  of 
such  and  such  a  kind,  to  the  fact  that  the  objects 
perceived  have  such  and  such  qualities. 

Before  concluding  this  section,  let  me  point  out 
what  it  is  that  I  have  7tot  attempted  to  do  in  this 
last  argumentative  portion  of  it,  I  have  not  In  any 
way  been  concerned  with  theories  respecting  the 
real  constitution  of  matter  based  on  metaphysical 
speculation,  nor  has  any  part  of  the  reasoning  de- 
pended on  the  truth  of  a  particular  doctrine  of  per- 
ception. I  have  simply  assumed  that.  If  as  we  are 
told  Science  Is  founded  upon  experience,  It  must  be 
founded  on  experience  of  one  of  two  kinds  :  either 
upon  that  experience  which  may  be  described  as 
the  Immediate  knowledge  of  objects  given  In  per- 
ception, or  else  upon  the  experience  which  is  nothing 
else  than  our  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  we  have 
such  and  such  perceptions.  On  the  first  of  these 
assumptions,  I  pointed  out  that  the  conclusions  of 
Science  contradicted  its  premises ;  on  the  second,   I 

showed  that  Science  could  draw  no  conclusions  at  all. 

s  2 


26o    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  in. 


CHAPTER   XIIL 

THE  EVOLUTION  OF  BELIEF} 

Ever  since  there  has  been  speculation  on  the  subject 
of  varieties  of  opinion,  this  fact  must  have  been 
obvious,  that  a  man's  beHefs  are  very  much  the 
results  of  antecedents  and  surroundings  with  which 
they  have  no  proper  logical  connection.  That  the 
sons  of  Christians  are  much  more  often  Christians, 
and  the  sons  of  Mahommedans  much  more  often 
Mahommedans,  that  a  man  more  commonly  holds 
the  opinions  of  those  with  whom  he  lives,  and  more 
commonly  trusts  the  policy  of  the  party  with  whom 
\j  he   acts,  than    on   the   theory   of  probability  could 

happen  supposing  that  conviction  was  In  all  cases 
the  result  of  an  impartial  comparison  of  evidence, 
must  always  have  been  plain  to  the  most  careless 
observer.  It  other  words,  it  must  always  have  been 
known  that  there  were  causes  of  belief  which  were 
not  reasons. 

The  progress  of  knowledge  has  not  led  us  to 
increase,  but  rather  to  diminish,  our  estimate  of  the 

^  The  substance  of  this  chapter  appeared  originally  in  the  Fort- 
nightly Review  of  1877,  p.  698.  I  have  attempted  to  cure  the  ob- 
scurity which  some  of  my  friends  professed  to  find  in  it,  at  the  cost  of 
a  little  amplification,  and  I  fear  a  certain  amount  of  repetition. 


CHAt>.  XIII.]        THE  EVOLUTION  OF  BELIEF.  261 

part  which  reasons  as  opposed  to  other  causes  have 
played  in  the  formation  of  creeds  ;  for  it  has  shown 
us  that  these  reasons  are  themselves  the  result  of 
non-rational  antecedents,  so  that  even  when  a  man 
attempts  to  form  opinions  only  according  to  evi- 
dence, what  he  shall  regard  as  evidence  is  settled  for 
him  by  causes  over  which  he  has  no  more  control 
than  he  has  over  the  natural  forces  by  which  a  par- 
ticular flora  is  produced  at  any  particular  place  and 
time. 

The  scientific  evidence  for  this  truth  is  various 
and  overwhelming.  It  is  justified  a  posteriori  with 
regard  to  individuals  by  common  observation,  with 
regard  to  races  by  every  improvement  in  our  his- 
toric method  and  every  addition  to  our  historic 
knowledge.  Physiology  shows  it  a  priori  by  de- 
monstrating the  dependence  of  thought  on  the 
organism,  and  of  the  organism  on  inheritance  and 
environment,  while  finally  evolution  binds  up  these 
detached  lines  of  proof  into  an  imposing  and  organic 
whole. 

But  though,  in  the  face  of  such  evidence,  nobody 
doubts  the  fact,  few  people,  I  should  think,  contem- 
plate it  habitually  without  now  and  then  suffering 
under  a  sort  of  sceptical  uneasiness  (if  I  may  so 
express  myself),  when  they  consider  its  bearing  on 
their  own  opinions.  The  multitude  of  beliefs  which, 
in  obedience  to  a  mechanic  and  inevitable  law,  sway 
for  a  time  the  minds  and  actions  of  men,  and  are 


262    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  hi. 


then  for  ever  swept  away  to  the  forgotten  past, 
giving  place  to  others,  as  firmly  trusted  in,  as  false, 
and  as  transitory  as  themselves,  form  a  spectacle 
which  is  not  only  somewhat  melancholy  in  itself,  but 
which  is  apt  to  suggest  uncomfortable  reflections  as 
to  the  permanent  character  of  the  convictions  we 
ourselves  happen  to  be  attached  to.  If,  indeed,  the 
law  obeyed  by  this  intellectual  dissolving  view 
applied  only  to  savages,  or  to  the  people  with  whose 
opinions  we  disagreed,  we  might  perhaps  contem- 
plate its  action  with  a  merely  speculative  interest. 
Unfortunately,  however,  this  is  not  so.  We  are  all 
involved  in  its  operations,  from  the  most  ignorant 
barbarian  to  the  most  advanced  thinker.  The  ex- 
istence of  Comtism  is  explained  by  it  not  less  than 
that  of  fetichism,  it  accounts  for  theories  of  Evolution 
not  less  than  for  Hindoo  cosmogonies,  and  the  man 
of  science  is  as  certainly  under  its  control  as  was  the 
Indian  whose  superstitions  he  is  making  the  subject 
of  analysis  and  classification. 

But  if  these  things  be  so,  wherein  lies  our 
defence  against  universal  scepticism  ?  It  is  true 
that  we  hear  on  all  sides  of  the  progress  of  know- 
ledge, that  we  imagine  science  to  be  as  it  were  a 
fabric  of  which  each  generation  lays  a  tier,  resting 
upon  that  which  was  laid  by  Its  predecessors,  and 
serving  for  a  foundation  for  that  which  will  be  laid 
by  its  successors.  But  after  all,  this  metaphor  only 
represents  an  opinion — like  other  opinions.    It  is  the 


CHAP.  XIII.]        THE  EVOLUTION  OF  BELIEF.  263 

belief  of  an  optimistic  age,  which  may  seem  to  future 
generations  no  more  than  a  transitory  fashion.  The 
last  ground  of  faith  seems  cut  away  from  beneath  our 
feet,  if  no  belief  is  left  which  can  be  trusted  suffi- 
ciently for  us  to  use  it  as  a  criterion  of  immutable 
truth  ;  and  if  our  creed  be  the  mere  product  of 
irrational  law,  where  is  such  a  belief  to  be  found  ? 

A  train  of  thought  not  unlike  this  must,  I  should 
imagine,  have  been  sometimes  started  in  the  mind  of 
the  reader  when  he  reflects  on  the  evolution  of 
opinion.  I  propose  in  this  chapter  to  put  in  a  clear 
form  what  I  conceive  to  be  the  really  solid  element 
in  such  sceptical,  if  somewhat,  vague,  speculations. 

The  case  may  be  stated  thus  : — Since  all  beliefs 
are  caused,  it  follows  that  those  fundamental  beliefs 
must  be  caused  which  lie  at  the  root  of  all  other 
beliefs,  and  which  are,  as  I  explained  in  the  first 
chapter,  the  rational  ground  on  which  we  hold  them. 
Now  these  fundamental  beliefs,  being  the  ultimate 
premises  of  all  knowledge,  are  themselves,  of  course, 
incapable  of  proof  So  that  while  they  resemble 
other  beliefs  in  being  caused,  they  differ  from  them 
in  this,  that  the  causes  by  which  they  are  produced 
are  of  necessity,  and  from  the  very  nature  of  the 
case,  always  non-rational.  In  ordinary  life,  when 
we  perceive  a  non-rational  cause  for  any  opinion,  as 
for  instance  party  feeling,  or  self-interest,  or  special 
education,  it  makes  us  examine  such  reasons  as  there 
may  be    for  it  with  more  jealous  minuteness.     In 


264    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 

contrast  to  this,  it  is  curious  and  interesting  to  note 
that  the  only  beliefs  of  which,  according  to  received 
scientific  theories,  we  may  say  with  certainty  that 
they  can  have  no  reason,  but  micst  have  non-rational 
causes,  are  those  on  which  the  certitude  of  all  other 
beliefs  finally  rests.  The  upholders,  however,  of  the 
current  theory  of  Evolution  are  so  far  from  finding 
any  difficulty  here,  that  they  even  refer  triumphantly 
to  this  theory  of  non-rational  causation,  as  supplying 
a  basis  of  philosophical  certitude  to  these  funda- 
mental beliefs.  They  hold  that  though  all  opinion 
is  the  product  of  natural  forces,  the  general  tendency 
of  those  forces  is  gradually  to  make  opinion  approxi- 
mate to  truth  ;  that  in  particular  the  opinions  which 
are  commonly  regarded  as  *  self-evident '  and  '  known 
by  intuition  '  are  really  the  result  of  reiterated  and 
uncontradicted  experience  acting  on  successive 
generations  ;  and  that  this  theory  of  their  origin 
supplies  a  philosophic  justification  for  believing  them 
to  be  true. 

This  line  of  reasoning,  however,  involves  a  mani- 
fest argument  in  a  circle.  It  cannot  be  that  this 
interaction  between  organism  and  environment  is  a 
reason  for  believing  any  proposition  to  be  true  which 
is  required  to  prove  that  interaction.  Or  (to  put  it 
more  generally)  no  argument  in  favour  of  a  system  of 
beliefs  can  be  drawn  from  the  fact  that,  according  to 
that  system,  its  fundamental  beliefs  would  be  true. 

From  Evolution,  then,  no  argument  can  be  drawn 


CHAP.  XIII.]        THE  EVOLUTION  OF  BELIEF.  265 

in  favour  of  any  scientific  axiom.  It  remains  to  be 
seen  whether  that  theory  has  any  less  negative 
bearing  on  the  philosophy  of  belief. 

Now  the  theory  asserts  this — All  phenomena 
whatever  are  evolved  by  regular  laws  and  groups 
of  laws  from  the  phenomena  next  preceding  them 
in  time.  Among  other  phenomena,  beliefs  ;  among 
other  beliefs,  fundamental  beliefs.  All  beliefs  what- 
ever being  caused,  the  question  arises.  Is  there  any- 
thing in  the  nature  of  the  laws  according  to  which 
they  are  caused  which  should  make  them  true  ?  To 
which  an  evolutionist  would  probably  reply  that 
there  is,  and  would  mention  those  causes  to  which 
allusion  has  already  been  made,  whose  tendency  is 
gradually  to  make  belief  correspond  with  fact. 
Then  (we  may  further  ask)  are  these  causes  of  such 
a  nature  as  to  make  all  beliefs  true  ? 

This  question  must  undoubtedly  be  answered  in 
the  negative.  If  any.  result  of  'observation  and 
experiment '  is  certain,  this  one  is  so — that  many 
erroneous  beliefs  have  existed,  and  do  exist  in  the 
world  ;  so  that  whatever  causes  there  may  be  in 
operation  by  which  true  beliefs  are  promoted,  they 
must  be  either  limited  in  their  operation,  or  be 
counteracted  by  other  causes  of  an  opposite  ten- 
dency. Have  w^e  then  any  reason  to  suppose  that 
fundamental  beliefs  are  specially  subject  to  these 
truth-producing  influences,  or  specially  exempt  from 
causes  of  error  ?     This  question,  I  apprehend,  must 


266     A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,   [part  hi. 

be  answered  in  the  negative.  At  first  sight,  indeed, 
it  would  seem  as  if  those  beliefs  were  specially  pro- 
tected from  error  which  are  the  results  of  legitimate 
reasoning.  But  legitimate  reasoning  is  only  a  pro- 
tection against  error  if  it  proceeds  from  true  pre- 
mises, and  it  is  clear  that  this  particular  protection 
the  premises  of  all  reasoning  never  can  possess. 
Have  they,  then,  any  other  ?  Except  the  '  ten- 
dency '  above  mentioned,  I  must  confess  myself  un- 
able to  see  that  they  have  ;  so  that  our  position  (as 
evolutionists)  is  this — From  certain  ultimate  beliefs 
we  infer  that  an  order  of  things  exists  by  which  all 
beliefs,  and  therefore  all  ultimate  beliefs,  are  pro- 
duced, but  according  to  which  any  particular  belief, 
and  therefore  any  particular  ultimate  belief,  must  be 
doubtful.  Now  this  is  a  position  w^hich  is  self- 
destructive.  No  system  of  beliefs,  giving  an  account 
of  the  origin  of  fundamental  beliefs,  can  be  consistent 
unless  those  fundamental  beliefs  are  as  certain  when 
regarded  as  the  result  of  antecedent  causes,  as  they 
are  when  regarded  as  the  ground  of  our  belief  in  the 
existence  and  operation  of  those  causes.  It  does 
not  follow  (as  I  pointed  out  by  implication  above) 
that  if,  according  to  the  account  of  their  origin  given 
by  the  system,  those  fundamental  beliefs  are  true, 
that  therefore  they  are  true  ;  for  the  truth  of  the 
system  is  an  inference  from  these  beliefs,  and  cannot 
therefore  prove  them.  What  does  follow  is,  that  the 
system  has  one  of  the  negative  conditions  of  truth, 


CHAP.  XIII.]        THE  EVOLUTION  OF  BELIEF.  267 

and  is  (so  far  at  least  as  this  matter  is  concerned) 
consistent  with  itself. 

To  this  criticism  it  may  perhaps  be  replied,  that 
there  is  no  contradiction  involved  in  considering  a 
proposition  from  two  points  of  view — from  one  of 
which  it  seems  certain,  and  from  the  other  doubtful. 
It  happens  every  day  in  dealing  with  statements 
which  are  established  by  pieces  of  evidence  of  very 
different  degrees  of  cogency.  For  example,  the  fact 
that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  invariably  equal 
to  two  right  angles  would  be  doubtful  if  we  had  no 
better  means  of  demonstrating  it  than  the  employ- 
ment of  a  pair  of  compasses.  Geometrical  proof,  on 
the  other  hand,  makes  it  absolutely  certain.  Will 
it  be  maintained  that  such  an  inconsistency,  if  it  can 
be  called  so,  suggests  any  sceptical  conclusion  ? 

Assuredly  not.  But  there  is  no  parallelism  be- 
tween the  two  cases.  Ultimate  premises  are  not 
shown  to  be  merely  probable  by  one  set  of  proofs, 
and  shown  to  be  certain  by  another.  They  are  not 
shown  to  be  certain  at  all.  They  are  assumed  to  be 
so  :  and  the  first  stage  of  the  difficulty  arises  from 
the  fact  that  while  they  are  assumed  without  evi- 
dence to  be  certain,  the  evidence  we  possess  as  to 
their  origin  shows  that  they  are  not  certain. 

If  this  were  all,  however,  the  difficulty  would  be 
a  slight  one.  We  should  merely  have  to  modify  our 
original  position,  and  concede  to  the  sceptic  that  the 
assurance  we   possessed   respecting  the  validity  of 


268    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,   [part  hi. 

our  ultimate  premises  was  not  quite  so  strong  as  we 
had  supposed.  It  is  at  the  next  stage  that  the  real 
difficulty  arises,  when  we  consider  the  fact  that  our 
whole  ground  for  thinking  these  ultimate  premises 
doubtful  is  founded  in  the  last  resort  upon  their  cer- 
tainty. This  is  a  manifest  flaw  or  defect,  which 
must  be  fatal  to  the  validity  of  any  system  from 
which  it  cannot  be  removed. 

The  difficulty  only  arises,  it  may  be  obsei^ved, 
when  we  are  considering  our  own  beliefs.  If  I  am  con- 
sidering the  beliefs  of  some  other  person — say  of  some 
mediaeval  divine — there  is  no  reason  why  I  should 
regard  them  as  anything  but  the  results  of  his  time 
and  circumstances.  I  observe  that  he  lived  in  such 
a  country,  fell  under  the  influence  of  such  and  such 
teachers,  came  across  such  and  such  incidents,  and 
then  I  infer,  with  much  self-contentment,  that  his 
beliefs  could  not  have  been  other  than  they  were.  I 
may  even  pay  them  the  compliment  of  pointing  out 
that  they  form  a  necessary  stage  in  the  general 
evolution  of  humanity.  But  when  I  come  to  con- 
sider my  own  beliefs  as  a  stage  in  the  general 
evolution  of  humanity,  then  there  emerges  the  con- 
tradiction mentioned  above.  If  they  represent  such 
a  stage,  all  of  them  may  be,  and  many  of  them  must 
be,  false.  Why  not  the  particular  belief  in  Evo- 
lution ?  Because  it  is  scientifically  demonstrated  ? 
This  only  removes  the  difficulty  a  stage  further 
back.     It   must   be    demonstrated   ultimately   from 


CHAP.  XIII.]        THE  EVOLUTION  OF  BELIEF.  269 

something  which  is  not  demonstrated  :  and  these 
undemonstrated  behefs  are  necessarily  rendered 
doubtful  by  the  reflection  that  they  form  part  of  the 
stage  in  the  evolution  of  humanity. 

*  But  if  this  is  all,'  the  advocates  of  Evolution 
may  be  inclined  to  reply,  '  you  have  proved  nothing 
more  than  we  are  quite  prepared  to  grant.  We 
concede,  without  difficulty,  that  our  theory  is  not  at 
present  rigorously  certain  ;  and  even  that  it  can 
never  become  so.  You  have  shown  that  doubt 
must  always  attach  to  our  original  data ;  we  will  go 
further,  and  admit  that  error  may  always  creep  into 
our  most  careful  deductions.  But  this  only  shows--- 
what  nobody  ever  disputed— that  we  must  content 
ourselves  in  science,  as  in  everything  else,  with  some- 
thing short  of  rigorous  demonstration.  Unless  you 
can  show  us  that  our  system  has  some  other  defect, 
not  necessarily  incident  to  the  work  of  fallible  man, 
your  arguments  will  be  wasted  on  people  who  in  the 
main  agree  with  you.'  I  reply  that  I  can  show  that 
it  has  some  other  defect ;  and  the  defect  is  this  :  If 
we  suppose  Evolution  to  become  what  evety  evolu- 
tionist must  wish  it  to  be — though  he  may  admit 
that  it  is  not — namely,  a  solid  piece  of  demonstra- 
tion resting  on  axiomatic  premises,  from  that  mo- 
ment it  becomes  self-contradictory.  It  is  impossible 
as  soon  as  it  is  certain  ;  because,  by  the  very  fact  of 
its  becoming  certain,  we  obtain  demonstrative  proof 
that  the  premises  of  the  system,  and  therefore  the 


2  70    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,  [part  hi. 

system  itself,  is  uncertain.  A  system  of  which  this 
can  be  said  is  not  merely  doubtful,  it  is  incoherent. 

The  precise  nature  of  this  objection  will  perhaps 
be  more  clear  if,  instead  of  being  put  in  this  its  most 
abstract  and  general  form,  a  concrete  example  of  it 
is  taken. 

We  may  suppose,  then,  a  conversation  between 
an  Evolutionist  and  an  Enquirer,  in  which,  when 
the  former  has  explained  in  the  usual  ways  how 
human  beliefs,  after  passing  through  infinite  grada- 
tions of  diminishing  error,  have  at  length  reached 
the  highest  development  they  are  now  capable  of  in 
the  opinion  he  himself  professes,  the  Enquirer  con- 
tinues the  dialogue  by  asking — 

Enq. — Do  you  suppose  that  this  development  of 
beliefs  has  now  reached  its  limits,  or  do  you  antici- 
pate as  great  a  change  in  the  future  as  has  occurred 
in  the  past  ? 

EvL — However  great  the  superiority  of  my 
views  may  be  over  those  of  my  remote  ancestors, 
or  indeed  over  those  of  my  contemporaries  who  are 
still  under  the  influence  of  tradition,  there  is  every 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  causes  which  have  pro- 
duced this  superiority  are  still  in  operation,  and  that 
we  may  look  forward  to  a  time  when  the  opinion  of 
mankind  will  bear  the  same  relation  to  ours  as  ours 
bear  to  those  of  primitive  man. 

Enq, — A  glorious  hope !  One,  nevertheless, 
which  would  seem  to  imply  that  many  of  our  pre- 


CHAP.  XIII.]        THE  EVOLUTION  OF  BELIEF.  271 

sent  views  are  either  entirely  wrong,  or  will  require 
profound  modification. 

EvL — Doubtless. 

Enq. — It  would  be  interesting  to  know  which  of 
our  opinions,  or  which  class  of  them,  is  likely  to  be 
improved  in  this  way  off  the  face  of  the  earth.  For 
example,  is  the  opinion  you  have  just  expressed, 
that  beliefs  are  developed  according  to  law — is  that 
opinion  likely  to  be  destroyed  by  development  ? 

Evl. — To  answer  your  question  in  the  affirma- 
tive would  appear  to  involve  a  contradiction.  If  (as 
we  assume)  development  is  truthwards,  it  is  impos- 
sible that  development  should  produce  a  disbelief  in 
development 

Enq, — I  understand  you  to  hold  then  that  a 
belief  in  development  is  true,  and  therefore  indestruc- 
tible, and  that  in  this  it  differs  from  many  of  our 
other  beliefs,  of  which  we  cannot,  unfortunately,  say 
the  same.  It  would  be  important  to  know  the 
grounds  of  this  distinction,  in  order  that  we  might 
see  how  far  it  was  capable  of  general  application. 

j5'z//.— Evolution  is  a  theory  arrived  at  by  re- 
ceived scientific  methods.  Doubtless,  all  results  of 
which  the  same  may  be  said  are  equally  true,  and 
will  be  equally  permanent. 

Enq, — You  talk  of  scientific  methods — but  a 
method  must  proceed  on  a  principle  or  principles. 
How  do  you  get  at  these  ? 

EvL — The  principles  you  speak  of  are,   I  sup- 


272    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,   [part  hi. 

pose,  the  assumptions  which  every  one  must  start 
from,  who  expects  to  make  any  progress  in  know- 
ledge. 

Enq. — These  assumptions,  as  I  understand  you, 
are  what  render  a  scientific  method  possible  They 
cannot,  therefore,  be  arrived  at  by  a  scientific 
method,  nor  can  they  belong  to  that  class  of  beliefs 
which,  as  you  just  pointed  out,  the  progress  of  evo- 
lution will  leave  uninjured. 

EvL — Still  you  must  assume  something. 

Enq, —  But  the  difficulty  here,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
is,  that  if  you  start  from  your  idea  of  evolution,  these 
assumptions,  like  all  other  beliefs  not  arrived  at  by 
*  received  scientific  methods,'  are,  or  may  be,  mere 
transient  phases  in  the  development  of  opinion,  like 
the  doctrines  involved  in  ancestor  worship  or  theism. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  only  by  starting  from  these  as- 
sumptions that  you  ever  get  to  your  theory  of  evolu- 
tion at  all.  In  other  words,  if  Evolution  is  certain, 
these  assumptions  must  be  certain,  when  regarded 
as  premises,  and  uncertain  when  regarded  as  pro- 
ducts.    This  is  not  easy  to  believe. 

i?z;/.— Still)  you  know,  you  must  assume  some- 
thing. 

^//^.-—Nevertheless,  it  is  a  pity  you  cannot  so 
order  your  assumptions  as  to  make  your  system 
more  self-consistent.  At  present  you  seem  some- 
what to  resemble  an  astronomer  who  should  base 
his  whole  theory  of  the  real  motion  of  the  heavenly 


CHAP,  xiil]        the  evolution  OF  BELIEF.  273 

bodies  on  the  supposition  that  his  own  planet  was  at 
rest ;  but  should  unfortunately  discover  that  one  of 
the  necessary  conclusions  from  his  theory  was  that 
his  planet,  in  common  with  all  the  others,  was  in  mo- 
tion. Of  such  a  one  we  should  probably  say,  that  if 
his  deductions  were  correct  his  premises  must  have 
been  wrong,  while  if  his  premises  were  correct  his 
deductions  must  have  been  wrong. 
;  So  far  I  have  only  considered  this  difficulty  as  it 
applies  to  Evolution,  because  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  issue  to  which  I  wished  to  call  attention  could 
be  thus  most  conveniently  raised.  It  is  a  mistake, 
however,  to  suppose  that  the  difficulty  necessarily 
attaches  to  Evolution  alone.  Every  theory  is  ob- 
noxious to  it  according  to  which  all  beliefs  are  sup- 
posed to  be  caused,  while  fundamental  beliefs  are 
caused  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  them  uncertain. 
Now  it  is  to  be  noted  that  this  description  is  rather  a 
wide  one  :  and  must  undoubtedly  be  held  to  include 
the  world  of  Science  as  ordinarily  conceived. 

For  It  is  plain  that  current  scientific  methods  can 
lead  to  no  other  result  than  that  belief  is  a  product. 
If  experience  can  prove  anything,  it  can  prove  that. 
There  is  here  none  of  that  doubt  which  has  been 
thrown  on  the  existence  or  non-existence  of  free  will 
by  the  real  or  supposed  discrepancy  between  the 
deliverances  of  Introspective  consciousness  and  the 
verdict  of  ordinary  historical  experience.  In  this 
case,  whether  we  consult  statistics,  whether  we  inter- 

T 


^74    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,    [part  hi. 

rogate  consciousness,  whether  we  judge  of  the  matter 
on  grounds  furnished  by  physiology,  or  ethnology, 
or  history,  or  natural  selection — whatever  scientific 
doctrine  or  scientific  method  be  brought  to  bear  on 
the  question,  but  one  result  Is  obtained  :  beliefs,  all 
beliefs,  are  the  result  of  the  operation  of  natural 
causes,  and  of  these  alone.  And  since  it  is  no  less 
certain,  I  apprehend,  that  these  causes  are  of  a  kind 
to  throw  doubts  on  the  beliefs  they  produce,  it  follows 
according  to  our  canon,  that  ordinary  scientific  me- 
thods land  us  in  contradiction.  It  must,  however, 
be  observed  that  there  is  a  justification,  beyond  mere 
convenience  of  exposition,  for  making  Evolution 
especially  the  subject  of  th««:  criticism,  because  it  is 
Evolution  alone  which  necessarily  claims  to  regulate 
the  whole  world  of  phenomena.  The  special  sci- 
ences— physics,  chemistry,  and  so  forth — might  very 
well  go  on,  even  if  their  methods  were  not  uni- 
versally applied,  though  it  must  be  admitted  that  it 
is  not  easy  to  find  a  principle  of  limitation.  But  if 
Evolution  is  not  universal,  it  is  nothing.  If  certain 
phenomena  are  to  be  left  outside  it,  if  it  cannot 
without  contradiction  and  confusion  explain,  poten- 
tially at  least,  how  the  whole  world  as  it  is  follows 
necessarily  from  the  world  as  it  was,  it  certainly 
appears  to  me  that  it  ought  to  modify  either  its 
methods  or  its  pretensions. 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  BELIEF.  275 


NOTE. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  the  argument  has  turned  in  part 
on  the  manner  in  which  the  nature  of  the  causes  of  belief 
in  general  (and  therefore  of  ultimate  beliefs)  may  affect 
their  validity.  At  first  sight  there  may  seem  to  be  some 
contradiction  between  this  portion  of  the  argument  and 
the  general  principles  laid  down  in  the  first  chapter.  For 
it  was  there  pointed  out  that  no  enquiry  into  the  origin  of 
ultimate  beliefs  can  be  of  any  philosophic  value,  and  the 
reader  may  be  tempted  to  interpret  this  canon  into  an 
assertion  that  the  origin  of  ultimate  beliefs  is  a  matter  of 
absolute  philosophic  indifference — an  interpretation  for 
which  my  own  language  offers,  perhaps,  some  excuse.  Thus 
interpreted,  however,  the  doctrine  is  incorrect.  It  ii>  true 
that  the  origin  of  ultimate  beliefs  never  can  supply  any 
ground  for  believing  them,  simply  because  the  fact  of  their 
having  any  particular  origin  can  only  be  shown  by  infer- 
ence founded  ultimately  on  these  beliefs  themselves.  But 
it  is  quite  possible  that  the  converse  of  this  proposition 
may  be  true,  and  that  inference  from  ultimate  beliefs  as  to 
their  origin  may  furnish  logical  grounds  for  doubting  or 
disbelieving  them.  The  preceding  chapter  contains  an 
example  of  this  drawn  from  actual  science,  and  an  imagi- 
nary instance  may  perhaps  serve  to  put  the  matter  in  a 
still  more  forcible  light.  We  might  imagine  it  to  be  a 
conclusion  demonstrable  from  our  ultimate  beliefs,  that 
those  beliefs  were  implanted  in  us  by  a  being  who  had  the 
power,  and-  invariably  had  the  wish,  to  deceive  and  mislead 
us.  Now  I  say  that  under  such  circumstances  we  should 
be  compelled  either  to  think  that  our  creed  was  essentially 

T  2 


276    A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT,   [part  iii. 

incoherent,  or  that  we  had  committed  some  blunder  in  our 
inference ;  and  this  is  the  dilemma  which,  though  in  a  less 
obvious  shape,  I  maintain  we  are  brought  face  to  face  with 
by  the  doctrine  of  Evolution  when  applied,  as  it  must  be 
applied,  to  our  ultimate  beliefs. 


SUMMARY.  "  277 


SUMMARY. 

I  HAVE  now  brought  to  a  close  the  long  series  of  dis- 
cussions on  the  speculative  foundations  of  Science^ 
which  began  with  the  second  chapter  of  this  Essay. 
It  may  now  be  convenient  if  I  endeavour,  even  at  the 
cost  of  some  repetition,  to  show  by  means  of  a  concise 
summary  the  main  outline  of  the  argument  of  which 
these  discussions  are  the  essential  parts. 

However  disjointed  and  fragmentary  the  general 
effect  of  what  precedes  may  be,  the  attentive  reader 
will  not  have  failed  to  observe  that  a  kind  of  unity  is 
introduced  into  the  whole  by  the  common  relation 
which  all  the  other  parts  bear  to  the  first  chapter. 
In  that  is  laid  down  with  sufficient  generality  the 
conditions  which  any  system  of  thought  must  satisfy 
before  it  can  be  regarded  as  reasonable  ,*  while  the 
succeeding  chapters  contain  an  examination  of  how 
far  these  conditions  are  satisfied  by  orthodox  Science. 
If  there  appears  but  little  unity  in  this  part  of  the 
Essay,  the  fact  is  only  a  reflection  of  the  disunion 
existing  between  the  different  systems  of  Philosophy 
criticised,  which,  though  they  all  admit  that  Science 


«78        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

rests  on  a  solid  and  rational  foundation,  seem  unfor- 
tunately able  to  agree  in  nothing  else. 

If  there  was  a  single  recognised  system  of  scien- 
tific philosophy,  complete  in  all  its  parts — containing, 
that  is,  an  account  of  the  premises  and  modes  of 
inference  by  which  every  scientific  proposition  was 
ultimately  established — the  task  of  the  critic,  so  far 
at  least  as  the  arrangement  of  his  work  was  con- 
cerned, would  be  comparatively  easy.  This,  however, 
is  not  so.  Existing  philosophies  are  not  only  various, 
but  they  are  incomplete.  They  not  only  treat  the 
same  portions  of  the  problem  differently,  but  they 
none  of  them  treat  of  it  in  all  its  parts.  Their 
attempts  are  fragmentary  as  well  as  inconsistent. 

At  what  point,  then,  is  the  critic  to  begin  ?  What 
system  should  be  examined  first,  and  what  parts  of 
that  system  should  be  assumed  to  be  provisionally 
sound  while  the  solidity  of  the  remainder  is  being 
tested  ?  The  course  that  I  have  adopted  in  this 
Essay,  whether  the  most  convenient  or  not,  has  been 
to  start  with  the  ordinary  Logic  of  Science,  taking  for 
granted  that  the  view  which  that  Logic  takes  of  the 
premises  of  Science  is  correct,  and  only  modifying 
the  assumption  as  it  was  gradually  found  untenable. 

Now  the  view  of  the  premises  of  physical  science 
taken  by  the  usual  Inductive  logic  is,  that  they  consist 
of  observations  of  what  takes  place  in  the  external 
world.  On  these  is  founded  everything  we  know 
concerning  the  nature  of  the  laws  which  obtain  In 


SUMMARY.  279; 


that  world,  including  the  fact  that  it  is  governed  by 
law  at  all  ;  so  that,  as  no  general  principle  is  given 
(except  on  the  transcendental  theory  which  I  examined 
later),  in  a  single  observation,  the  problem  we  have 
first  to  consider  is,  how  inference  is  possible  from  par- 
ticulars alone.  The  result  of  the  discussion  on  this 
point  was  to  show  that,  so  far  as  at  present  appears,  no 
such  inference  is  possible  ;  and  for  a  reason  which,  in 
its  most  general  expression,  was  given  in  the  first 
chapter.^  I  there  observed  that  *  any  kind  of  Logic, 
if  it  is  to  be  philosophical,  must  be  formal.  The  whole 
object  of  a  philosophy  of  inference  being  to  distin- 
guish valid  and  ultimate  inferences  from  those  which 
are  invalid  or  derivative,  this  can  only  be  done, 
either  by  exhibiting  the  common  forms  of  such  infer- 
ences, or  (on  the  violent  hypothesis  that  they  have 
no  common  forms),  by  enumerating  every  concrete 
instance.  To  enunciate  a  form  of  inference  which 
shall  include  both  valid  and  invalid  examples,  can  at 
best  have  only  a  psychological  interest*  Now,  in- 
duction from  particulars  is  a  form  of  inference  which 
includes  both  valid  and  invalid  examples,  so  that,  in 
accordance  with  the  maxim  above  enunciated,  it  is 
philosophically  worthless.  If  no  attempt  is  made  to 
distinguish  between  the  cases  where  it  is  legitimate 
and  those  where  it  is  not,  then  no  confidence  can  be 
placed  in  its  conclusions.     If  such  an  attempt  is  made, 


Chap.  i.  p.  II. 


28o        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

it  must  be  by  the  help  of  some  general  principle,- 
and  in  that  case  the  inference  ceases  to  be  from 
particulars. 

Something,  then,  must  be  added  to  the  know- 
ledge we  derive  from  observation  to  enable  us  to 
arrive  at  a  law  of  Nature  :  and,  further,  this  additional 
premiss  must  be  a  general  proposition.  What  is  it 
to  be  ?  The  reader,  recollecting  that  we  wish  to 
keep  as  close  as  possible  to  the  ordinary  philosophy 
of  Science,  and  also  to  make  our  initial  assumptions 
as  few  as  possible  (seeing  that  we  have  afterwards  to 
examine  their  validity),  will  doubtless  approve  the 
choice  of  the  law  of  causation.  In  the  third  chapter, 
therefore,  we  enquire  how  far  it  is  possible  to  arrive 
at  a  knowledge  of  the  special  laws  of  Nature,  it  being 
conceded  that  similar  effects  always  follow  similar 
causes,  and  that  a  knowledge  of  particular  sequences 
and  coexistences  between  phenomena  can  be  derived 
from  observation.  The  result  of  this  enquiry  was  to 
show  that,  if  we  take  some  phenomenon  or  group 
of  phenomena  for  investigation,  inductive  logic  is 
competent  under  favourable  circumstances  to  prove, 
with  a  high  degree  of  probability,  that  certain  of  the 
phenomena  preceding  it  in  time  mere,  and  certain  of 
them  were  noi,  causally  connected  with  it.  But  that, 
on  the  other  hand,  inductive  logic  could  not  show 
either  of  these  things  respecting  that  indefinite  mul- 
titude of  phenomena  which  in  experience  have 
always  been  present,  both  when  the  phenomenon 


SUMMARY.  '        2^1 


under  investigation  has  occurred  and  also  when  it 
has  not. 

Since  there  is  no  apparent  method  by  which 
the  effects  of  these  persistent  causes  can  be  ehmi- 
nated,  we  are  for  ever  debarred  from  a  theoretical 
knowledge  of  any  absolute  law  of  Nature  :  from 
a  knowledge,  I  mean,  of  ^// the  phenomena  required 
to  produce  a  given  result :  and  since  there  is  no 
assignable  ground  for  assuming  that  these  persistent 
objects  which  have  always  accompanied,  and  may 
possibly  have  co-operated  with,  the  known  cause  of 
any  effect,  will  continue  to  accompany  them  whenever 
they  recur,  our  ground  for  supposing  that  these  known 
causes  will  in  the  future  be  followed  by  their  accus- 
tomed consequents,  seems  in  a  great  measure 
removed. 

The  principles  on  which  this  somewhat  unsatis- 
factory conclusion  is  based  are  these  two  : — First, 
every  phenomenon  which  invariably  precedes  another 
phenomenon  may,  for  anything  we  know  to  the  con- 
trary, be  part  of  its  cause.  Second,  the  present  or 
past  existence  of  a  phenomenon  furnishes  no  grounds 
for  anticipating  its  existence  in  the  future.  Of 
course,  in  order  that  these  principles  may  be  legiti- 
mately applied,  we  require  to  assume  an  absolute 
ignorance  of  all  the  laws  of  Nature.  On  the  con- 
trary assumption,  that  some  of  these  laws  are  known, 
we  may  have  every  reason  for  thinking  that  certain 
antecedents  are  not  causes,  and  for  expecting  a  con- 


2S2        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

tinuance  of  things  which  have  hitherto  existed.  But 
since  we  are  examining  the  methods  by  which  laws  of 
Nature  in  general  are  arrived  at,  we  must  evidently 
start  by  supposing  that  they  are  not  arrived  at  yet, 
and  on  that  supposition  the  two  principles  above 
stated  seem  to  me  hard  to  refute. 

In  Chapter  IV.  I  took  for  granted  that  which  in 
Chapter  III.  I  showed  could  not  be  proved,  namely, 
the  trustworthiness  of  our  knowledge  of  the  laws 
connecting  phenomena,  and  enquired  how,  from  laws, 
we  could  argue  to  facts — and  more  especially  to  facts 
that  have  already  occurred. 

I  pointed  out  that  our  knowledge  of  past  events 
was  entirely  founded  upon  reasoning  from  effect  to 
cause ;  and  that  there  was  a  prima  facie  difficulty 
attaching  to  all  reasoning  of  this  kind,  arising  from 
the  circumstance  that  more  than  one  cause  might 
possibly  produce  a  given  effect.  The  problem, 
therefore,  which  required  consideration  was,  how  to 
distinguish  from  among  the  causes  which  are  merely 
possible,  the  one  which  was  actual  or  probable.  For 
this  problem  I  could  find  no  solution.  The  ordinary 
procedure  which  is  followed  by  men  of  science  is  to 
estimate  the  comparative  probabilities  of  the  rival 
hypotheses,  on  the  basis  of  some  theory  respecting 
the  condition  of  things  at  the  time  of  which  they  are 
treating.  Now  this  theory,  if  it  is  not  a  mere  figment 
of  their  own  imagination,  must,  like  any  other  his- 
torical  proposition,    be   itself  in    the  first   instance 


SUMMARY.  283 


founded  upon  an  inference  from  effect  to  cause.  But 
this  process  of  resting  successive  inferences  from 
effect  to  cause  on  historical  hypotheses  which  can 
only  be  justified  by  other  inferences  from  effect  to 
cause,  must  evidently  have  a  limit.  When  that  limit 
is  reached,  what  is  to  be  our  next  ground  of  belief? 
On  this  point  Scientific  Philosophy  is  silent,  and  we 
are  driven  to  the  conclusion,  that  if  two  or  more 
explanations  of  the  universe  are  barely  possible,  they 
must,  for  anything  we  can  say  to  the  contrary,  be 
equally  probable  ;  which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  that 
one  version  of  history  need  not  be  less  likely  than 
another,  merely  because  it  seems  in  comparison  un- 
natural and  extravagant. 

These  remarks,  of  course,  only  hold  good  as  be- 
tween causes  which  are  possible.  If  a  cause  could 
not  produce  the  effects  which  are  our  sole  premises 
for  inferring  the  existence  and  character  of  any  cause 
at  all,  cadit  qucsslio.  Supposing,  therefore,  it  could 
be  shown  that  at  any  given  time  only  one  set  of  facts 
could  result  in  the  world  as  we  now  see  it,  we  should 
know  the  history  of  that  time  with  a  perfect  assur- 
ance. Can  this  ever  be  shown  ?  It  cannot.  It 
cannot  be  shown,  I  imagine,  even  if  we  restrict  our 
attention  to  those  phenomena  with  whose  laws  we  are 
acquainted.  But,  besides  these,  there  may  be  count- 
less powers  with  the  laws  of  whose  operations  we  are 
entirely  unacquainted,  and  by  which  all  that  we  see 
may  have  been  produced.     If  we  once  admit  the 


284        A  DEFENCE  OV  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

possibility  of  their  existence  (and  1  do  not  know  by 
what  authority  we  are  to  deny  it),  all  historical  infer- 
ence is  thrown  into  confusion.  We  can  have  no 
ground  for  supposing  these  hypothetical  powers  to 
begin  acting  at  one  time  rather  than  at  another, 
whether  they  be  powers  which  should  be  described 
as  metaphysical,  theological,  or  merely  unknown. 
In  order,  therefore,  that  a  man  may  have  any  rational 
confidence  in  the  history  of  the  Cosmos  as  revealed  in 
the  teachings  of  Science,  he  must  be  something  more 
than  an  Agnostic.  He  must  have  very  solid  grounds 
for  believing,  not  only  that  through  the  infinite  past 
only  one  series  of  phenomena  can  be  assigned  capa- 
ble of  having  produced  the  actual  universe,  but 
that  nothing  besides  phenomena  capable  of  acting 
on  phenomena  have  ever  existed  at  all — and  these 
solid  grounds  of  belief  or  disbelief  must  no^  be  drawn 
from  history ;  but,  if  derived  from  experience  at  all, 
must  be  derived  from  his  own  immediate  observa- 
tions. 

Here  terminated  the  first  part  of  our  enquiry. 
Its  general  result  is  to  show  (i)  that  from  the  par- 
ticular knowledge  obtained  by  observing  the  phe- 
nomena of  a  world  assumed  throughout  this  part  of 
the  Essay  to  be  persistent,  no  scientific  conclusions 
could  be  drawn  :  and  (2)  that  even  if  we  suppose 
these  phenomena  to  be  part  of  a  world  governed  by 
causation,  we  were  not  much  advanced,  and  that 
therefore,  (3)  some  further  principles  or  modes  of 


SUMMARY.  -285 


inference  have  need  to  be  discovered  before  Science 
is  placed  on  a  rational  foundation.  Of  these  '  further 
•principles/  since  their  nature  is  altogether  unknown, 
.no  more  notice  has  been  taken. 

The  second  part  of  the  Essay  was  principally 
occupied  in  discussing  various  philosophic  proofs  of 
two  known  assumptions  on  which  Science  proceeds— 
^namely,  the  persistence  of  the  material  universe  and 
the  law  of  universal  causation.  With  regard  to  the 
iirst  of  them,  though  not,  I  think,  with  regard  to  the 
second,  two  theories  have  been  maintained,  either  of 
which,  if  true,  would  render  any  philosophic  defence 
'of  it  unnecessary.  According  to  one,  the  persistence 
of  the  material  universe  is  self-evident ;  according  to 
the  other,  it  is  untrue — though  at  the  same  time  its 
untruth  has  no  scientific  significance  whatever.  The 
iirst  of  these  statements  I  gave  some  reasons  for 
doubting  in  the  Introduction  to  the  second  part ;  the 
second  I  discussed  at  length  in  Chapter  IX. 

It  will  not  be  necessary  to  recapitulate  the  argu- 
ments by  which  I  attempted  to  show  that  the  main 
systems  of  speculation  which  now  hold  a  divided  and 
precarious  authority  among  English  thinkers  cannot 
pretend  to  furnish  satisfactory  evidence  of  the  trust- 
worthiness of  these  two  scientific  assumptions.  It 
will  be  sufficient  to  remind  the  reader  that,  in  the 
chapters  from  VI.  to  XI.  inclusive,  I  dealt  more  or 
less   fully  with    (i)  The    Kantian  or    neo- Kantian 


2^6        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSt)PHIC  DOUBT. 

argument  which  founds  knowledge  on  certain  Trans- 
cendental necessities  of  belief.     [Ch.  VI.] 

(2)  The  system  which  sets  up  an  internal  or 
subjective  authority — called  Consciousness — as  the 
final  arbiter  of  Truth.     [Ch.  V 1 1 L] 

(3)  The  system  which  finds  the  highest  source  of 
certainty  in  our  original  judgments.      [Ch.  VIII.] 

(4)  The  argument  which  seeks  either  in  the 
opinions  of  mankind  in  general,  or  of  some  selected 
portion  of  them,  for  an  ultimate  ground  of  belief. 
[Ch.  VII.] 

(5)  The  argument  which  infers  the  truth  of  an 
opinion  from  the  fact  that  it  *  succeeds  in  practice.' 
[Ch.  VII.] 

(6)  The  argument  which  infers  the  truth  of  an 
opinion  from  the  fact  that  '  common  sense '  (in  the 
popular  acceptation  of  that  term)  supports  it.  [Ch. 
VII.] 

(7)  The  philosophy  which  declares  every  pro- 
position to  be  true  of  which  the  opposite  is  incon- 
ceivable. 

In  addition  to  these  discussions  on  various  pro- 
posed foundations  for  a  creed,  I  introduced  into  the 
second  part  two  chapters  :  one  devoted  to  refuting 
Mr.  Spencer's  proof  of  Realism  [Ch.  XI.],  the  other 
to  showing  that  unless  Realism  be  true,  Science  must 
be  false  [Ch.  IX.]. 

I  have  purposely  made  these  discussions  personal, 
in  the  sense  of  fastening  them  on  some  particular 


SUMMARY.  '         Vgy 


individual — ^in  all  cases,  the  most  distinguished  recent 
exponent  of  his  special  views — because  this  method 
seems  the  one  most  certainly  calculated  to  raise  a 
clear  and  definite  issue.  While  in  regard  to  the  sub- 
ject-matter of  the  criticisms,  I  have  attempted  to 
steer  between  the  opposite  danger  of,  on  the  one 
hand,  dealing  with  minute  or  verbal  errors,  and  on 
the  other,  of  wandering  off  into  comments  upon  the 
whole  system  of  an  author,  instead  of  confining  my- 
self to  those  parts  which  are  alone  relevant  to  the 
questions  at  issue. 

Assuming  theii  that  the  arguments  attacked  are 
fairly  representative  of  English  Philosophy  at  the 
present  time — as  is,  I  think,  the  case — and  assum- 
ing, as  Lam  bound  to  do,  that  the  answers  here 
given  to  tbose  arguments  are  effective,  we  may  say 
that  Science  is  a  system  of  belief  which,  for  anything 
we  can  allege  to  the  contrary,  is  wholly  without 
proof.  The  inferences  by  which  it  is  arrived  at  are 
erroneous ;  the  premises  on  which  it  rests  are  un- 
proved. It  only  remains  to  show  that,  considered  as 
a  general  system  of  belief,  it  is  incoherent :  and  this 
task  is  undertaken  in  the  two  chapters  which  together 
form  the  Third  Part. 

The  first  of  these  (namely.  Chapter  XII.)  is 
devoted  in  the  main  to  showing  that  there  is  a  dis- 
crepancy between  the  facts  which  Science  asserts  to 
be  its  (particular)  premises  and  the  facts  which  it 
puts  forward  as  its  ultimate  conclusions.   But  besides 


288        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

this  principal  contention,  it  is  shown  incidentally  that 
the  universe,  as  it  is  represented  to  us  by  Science, 
is  wholly  unimaginable,  and  that  our  conception  of 
it  is,  what  in  Theology  would  be  termed,  purely 
anthropomorphic.  It  must  be  noted  that  the  uni- 
verse here  spoken  of  is  not  the  metaphysical  Thing- 
in-itself,  nor  is  it  the  Unknowable  Reality  which  we 
are  supposed  by  some  philosophers  to  arrive  at,  if  we 
drive  our  speculative  analysis  sufficiently  deep.  On 
the  contrary,  it  is  the  subject-matter  of  all,  or  almost 
all,  the  propositions  which  are  put  forward  by  Natural 
Science,  and  which  together  constitute  a  large  part 
of  what  is  commonly,  though  not  very  happily,  de- 
scribed as  Positive  Knowledge. 

^The  chief  argument  of  Chapter  XII.  is,  how- 
ever, only  indirectly  connected  with  this  subject, 
its  principal  end  being  to  contrast  the  world  as  it 
appears  with  the  world  as  Science  assures  us  that  it 
is,  and  to  show  that  the  scientific  reasoning  which 
makes  our  knowledge  of  the  second  depend  logically 
upon  our  knowledge  of  the  first,  is  inadmissible. 

The  fact  that  the  two  are  in  contradiction  is 
flagrant  and  undeniable— as  any  one  may  see  who 
considers  that  while  perception  gives  us  immediate 
knowledge  of  the  existence  of  coloured  objects. 
Science  tells  us  that  this  appearance  is  really  due 
either  to  the  vibration  of  uncoloured  particles,  or 
to  reflection  from  uncoloured  surfaces.  It  is  also,  I 
imagine,  evident  that  no  integral  part  of  a  system 


SUMMARY.  289 


can  contradict  the  premises  of  that  system  with- 
out introducing  confusion  and  incoherence  into 
the  whole :  and  finally,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
since  our  actual  scientific  system  does  rest  upon 
the  data  given  in  perception,  and  since  its  conclu- 
sions are  in  contradiction  with  these  data,  it  must  be 
regarded  as  incoherent  and  confused. 

Some  speculative  arguments  fail  of  their  effect 
from  their  too  great  subtilty.  The  argument  whose 
outline  I  have  just  briefly  indicated  is  likely  to  fail 
from  a  precisely  opposite  reason.  When  once  stated 
it  is  so  obvious,  and  so  readily  understood,  that  it  is 
hard  to  believe  that  there  is  not  some  recognised 
and  equally  obvious  reply  by  which  the  difficulty  it 
raises  may  be  disposed  of.  If  so,  however,  I  do  not 
know  where  such  a  reply  is  to  be  found  :  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  cause  may  I  think  be  shown  (as  I 
pointed  out  in  the  chapter  under  review)  why  the 
difficulty  itself  may  easily  escape  notice.  I  there 
explained  that  in  our  reflections  upon  the  origin  of 
our  knowledge  of  the  external  world  we  habitually 
take  for  granted  the  scientific  theory  of  perception  : 
according  to  which  the  perceived  object  acts  upon 
our  organism,  which  in  its  turn  produces  in  the  per- 
ceiving mind  what  is  called  a  perception  of  the  ob- 
ject. If  this  theory  be  true — and  I  did  not  dispute  it 
— it  is  intelligible  enough  that  the  object  as  it  is  per- 
ceived should  not  exactly  correspond  with  the  object 
as  it  is,  but  that  (to  speak  metaphorically)   the  mes- 

u 


290        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

sage  sent  by  the  latter  should  be  altered  and  modi- 
fied in  the  course  of  transmission.  But  the  difficulty 
IS  that  this  theory  itself  rests  entirely  on  observations 
of  the  external  world,  and  therefore,  though  its  exist- 
ence quite  accounts  for,  yet  it  by  no  means  justifies 
our  habitual  indifference  to  the  contradiction  which 
lies  between  the  immediate  results  of  these  obser- 
vations and  the  remote  conclusions  which  Science 
draws  from  them.  In  order  to  obviate  a  possi- 
ble way  by  which  this  objection  might  be  met,  I 
showed,  at  the  end  of  the  chapter,  that  no  advan- 
tage is  gained  for  the  scientific  system  by  supposing 
that  it  rests,  not  on  the  facts  given  in  perception,  but 
(which  is  quite  another  thing)  on  the  fact  that  such 
and  such  perceptions  occur :  not  on  the  existence 
of  the  various  things  perceived — crystals,  metals, 
planets,  and  so  forth,  but  on  the  fact  that  we  have 
perceptions  as  of  crystals,  metals,  and  planets.  It 
was  shortly  pointed  out  that  to  regard  the  world  of 
Science  as  a  hypothetical  means  of  accounting  for 
the  occurrence  of  these  perceptions — and  it  is  this 
which  we  should  have  to  do,  if  we  mean  to  justify 
our  belief  in  it  merely  by  an  inference  founded  on 
the  fact  that  these  perceptions  exist — would  be 
simply  to  place  it  on  a  level  with  an  indefinite  num- 
ber of  other  hypotheses,  known  and  unknown,  which 
might  be  supposed  to  fulfil  the  same  function. 

The  Thirteenth  chapter,  like  the  twelfth,  dealt 
with  an  inherent  flaw  or  defect  in  the  scientific  system, 


SUMMARY.  291 


but  one  of  a  much  more  subtle  and  difficult  charac- 
ter. This  flaw  is  due  ultimately  to  the  fact  that 
every  belief  may  be  considered  from  two  separate 
points  of  view.  It  may  be  looked  upon  as  a  mem- 
ber of  a  logical  series,  or  it  may  be  looked  upon  as 
a  member  of  a  causal  series.  If  we  consider  it  from 
the  first  of  these  points  of  view,  it  appears  as  a  con- 
clusion, as  a  premiss,  or  as  both  a  conclusion  and  a 
premiss.  If  we  consider  It  from  the  second  point  of 
view,  it  appears  as  an  effect,  as  a  cause,  or  as  both 
an  effect  and  a  cause. 

Now  every  belief,  without  exception,  has  accord- 
ing to  Science  got  a  cause.  But  every  belief  has  by 
no  means  got  a  reason,  and  there  are  some  beliefs 
which  cannot  possibly  have  reasons,  namely,  those 
ultimate  ones  on  which  all  others  depend  ;  these, 
it  is  evident,  must  be  products,  but  cannot  be  con- 
clusions. 

Confining  our  attention,  then,  to  ultimate  beliefs 
considered  merely  as  products,  it  becomes  evident 
that,  as  products,  they  are  in  no  way  to  be  distin- 
guished from  the  Infinite  multitude  of  beliefs  which 
rise  Into  notice,  become  the  fashion,  fall  out  of 
favour,  and  are  forgotten  by  all  but  the  historians 
of  opinion.  Like  them,  they  are  the  effects  of 
material  antecedents,  the  necessary  results  of  a 
primeval  arrangement  of  atoms.  But  these,  the 
reader  must  note,  are  causes  which  unquestionably 
produce  much  error,  and  which  It  might  be  plausibly 

u  2 


292        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

maintained  have  produced  more  error  than  truth. 
There  is  consequently  a  distinct  probability — though, 
of  course,  one  uncertain  in  its  amount — that  any  be- 
lief, and  therefore  any  ultimate  belief,  which  results 
from  their  operation  will  be  erroneous. 

But  if  now,  from  looking  at  the  question  exclu- 
sively from  the  causal  side,  we  turn  round  and  look 
at  it  from  the  cognitive  or  logical  side  as  well,  we 
become  conscious  of  a  difficulty.  For  in  so  far  as 
Science  conforms  to  the  ideal  of  a  rational  system, 
it  consists  of  conclusions  certainly  inferred  from 
certain  premises.  But  one  of  the  conclusions  thus 
certainly  inferred  is  (as  we  have  just  seen),  that 
the  premises  of  all  science  are  doubtful ;  so  that  the 
more  certain  we  choose  to  consider  our  inferences, 
the  more  we  diminish  the  only  ultimate  assurance 
we  have  for  believing  them  at  all. 

If  it  be  replied  that  this  consequence  may  be 
avoided  by  considering  the  scientific  system — as  all 
reasonable  men  do  actually  consider  it — to  be  merely 
probable, '  I  answer  that  we  cannot  consider  any  sys- 
tem to  be  even  probable  which,  if  it  were  suddenly 
to  become  certain,  would  be  self-contradictory,  and 
therefore  impossible.  Such  a  supposition  is  absurd. 
No  conclusion  less  than  the  recognition  of  the  fact, 
that  there  is  some  fundamental  error  or  omission  in 
the  account  given  by  Science,  and  more  especially 
by  the  doctrine  of  Evolution,  of  the  genesis  of  our 
ultimate  beliefs,  will  satisfy  the  argument ;   though 


SUMMARY.  293 


how  this  error  or  omission  is  to  be  corrected  or 
supplied  without  entirely  altering  our  ordinary 
theories  about  the  history  of  the  universe,  I  am 
unable  to  say. 

This  discussion  in  the  thirteenth  chapter  concludes 
the  speculative  enquiry  into  the  nature  and  validity 
of  the  evidence  which  can  be  produced  in  favour  of 
the  current  scientific  creed.  At  every  point,  the 
results  arrived  at  have  been  unfavourable  to  Science. 
It  fails  in  its  premises,  in  its  inferences,  and  in  its 
conclusions.  The  first,  so  far  as  they  are  known, 
are  unproved  ;  the  second  are  inconclusive  ;  the  third 
are  incoherent.  Nor  am  I  acquainted  with  any 
kind  of  defect  to  which  systems  of  belief  are  liable, 
under  which  the  scientific  system  of  belief  may  not 
properly  be  said  to  suffer. 

If  the  reader,  in  the  interests  of  speculation  (the 
practical  question  will  be  discussed  in  the  next 
chapter),  feels  inclined  to  complain  of  the  purely 
destructive  nature  of  the  criticisms  contained  in  the 
preceding  pages,  I  reply  that  speculation  seems  sadly 
in  want  of  destructive  criticism  just  at  the  present 
time.  Whenever  any  faith  is  held  strongly  and 
universally,  there  is  a  constant  and  overpowering 
tendency  to  convert  Philosophy,  which  should  be 
its  judge,  into  its  servant.  It  was  so  formerly,  when 
Theology  ruled  supreme  ;  it  is  so  now  that  Science 
has  usurped  its  place :  and  I  assert  with  some  con- 
fidence that  the  bias  given  to  thought  in  the  days  of 


394        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

the  Schoolmen  through  the  overmastering  influence 
of  the  first  of  these  creeds  was  not  a  whit  more  per- 
nicious to  the  cause  of  impartial  speculation  than 
the  bias  which  it  receives  at  this  moment  through 
the  influence  of  the  second. 

It  is  curious  to  remark  how  similar  are  the  con- 
sequences of  this  bias  in  the  two  cases.  Philo- 
sophy, or  what  passed  for  such,  not  only  supported 
Theology  in  the  Middle  Ages-^it  became  almost 
identical  with  it ;  it  not  only  supports  Science  now, 
but  it  has  almost  become  a  scientific  department. 
To  hear  some  people  talk,  one  would  really  suppose 
that  Philosophy  consisted  either  of  the  more  general 
aspects  of  scientific  truth  or  of  the  results  obtained 
by  applying  the  '  approved  methods  of  physical  in- 
vestigation '  to  mind,  or  even,  which  is  still  more  ex- 
traordinary, to  the  nervous  system  !  It  may  be  ad- 
mitted that  nothing  can  well  be  more  interesting  than 
the  treatment  of  the  first  of  these  subjects  by  such 
writers  as  M.  Comte  and  Mr.  Spencer  ;  though  it  can 
hardly  be  necessary  again  to  insist  on  the  fact  that  no 
mere  generalisations  within  the  sphere  of  Science, 
though  they  may  furnish  materials  for  a  *  Positive ' 
Philosophy,  can  ever  be  expected  to  give  us  what  I 
should  term  a  *  scientific '  one,  any  more  than  a  work 
which,  to  start  with,  assumed  the  truth  of  the  Three 
Creeds,  could  constitute  a  rational  exposition  of 
Christian  evidences.  While,  with  regard  to  empirical 
psychology  and  empirical  physiology,  it  is  only  neces- 


SUMMARY.  295 


sary  to  remind  the  reader  of  what  was  shown  at 
sufficient  length  in  the  first  chapter,  namely,  that  no 
progress  made  along  these  very  respectable  lines  of 
research,  however  much  it  may  increase  our  know- 
ledge of  mind  and  of  body,  can  ever  produce,  or  even 
perhaps  suggest,  a  solid  and  satisfactory  theory  of 
the  grounds  of  belief. 

Whatever  be  the  errors  and  shortcomings  of  the 
preceding  discussions,  I  have,  I  trust,  in  the  course 
of  them  avoided  this  particular  confusion  (I  mean 
between  aspects  of  Science  or  parts  of  Science  and 
Philosophy)  which  is  the  fertile  cause  of  so  many 
others.  The  path  of  my  argument  has  been  a 
narrow  one,  deviating  neither  into  Science  on  the 
one  hand  nor  into  Metaphysics  on  the  other  ;  and  if 
it  seems  to  run  through  a  somewhat  uninteresting 
region,  and  to  lead  to  no  desirable  goal,  yet  it,  or 
something  like  it,  must,  I  believe,  be  traversed  before 
intellectual  repose  is  finally  reached.  If  speculations 
which  do  nothing  but  destroy  seem  to  be,  as  indeed 
they  are,  unsatisfactory  even  from  a  speculative 
point  of  view,  the  reader  must  recollect  that  definite 
and  rational  certainty  is  not  likely  to  be  obtained 
unless  we  first  pass  through  a  stage  of  definite  and 
rational  doubt. 


296        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 


%%i  LI 

\,V        ^^y   THE  '         \^ 

NIVEHSlTYj 

PRACTICAL    RESULTS. 

The  reader  who  has  followed  the  long  argument  of 
this  Essay  to  Its  termination  at  the  close  of  the  pre- 
ceding chapter,  may  perhaps  be  disposed  to  ask,  what, 
if  any,  is  intended  to  be  the  practical  result  of  a 
piece  of  criticism  so  purely  destructive  in  its  character. 
If  it  is  intended  to  be  a  mere  dialectical  puzzle, 
a  mere  exercise  in  ingenious  objections,  or  even  a 
contribution  of  a  somewhat  eccentric  kind  towards 
English  Philosophy,  it  cannot  be  regarded  as  of  much 
general  interest  outside  the  sphere  of  speculation.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  intended  to  influence  actual 
belief,  what  effect  can  it  have,  except  the  produc- 
tion of  a  universal  or  nearly  universal  scepticism  ? 
— an  object  which  can  scarcely  be  thought  worth  the 
trouble  both  writer  and  reader  must  undergo  in  order 
to  attain  it. 

Before  answering  these  objections,  I  must  point 
out  that  the  word  *  scepticism '  taken  without  ex- 
planation is  ambiguous.  It  may  mean  either  the 
intellectual  recognition  of  the  want  of  evidence,  or  it 
may  mean  this  together  with  its  consequent  unbelief. 
Now  if  my  supposed  critic  uses  the  word   in  the 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  297 

second  of  these  senses,  It  might  be  well,  before  ask- 
ing whether  such  scientific  scepticism  is  desirable,  to 
ask  whether  it  is  possible ;  because  if,  as  I  believe, 
this  question  must  be  answered  in  the  negative — if 
scepticism  of  the  far-reaching  character  required  by 
the  reasoning  of  this  Essay  can  be  produced  by  no 
rigour  of  demonstration — we  may  make  ourselves 
easy  as  to  any  ill  effect  which,  did  It  exist.  It  might  be 
expected  to  produce.  The  only  persons  who  might 
conceivably  be  embarrassed  by  the  speculative  con- 
clusions I  have  so  far  attempted  to  establish  are  those 
whose  devotion  to  truth  takes  the  form  of  asserting 
that  we  are  in  duty  bound  to  make  the  strength  of 
our  beliefs  vary  exactly  with  the  strength  of  the  evi- 
dence on  which  they  rest.  But  this  maxim,  though 
occasionally  uttered  as  if  it  were  a  moral  law,  would 
no  doubt  be  found  capable  of  modification  In  the  face 
of  an  Imperious  necessity. 

If,  then,  scepticism  in  the  second  sense  be  Impos- 
sible, Is  scepticism  In  the  first  sense — scepticism  which 
merely  recognises  the  absence  of  philosophical  proof 
or  other  logical  defect  In  a  system  of  belief — of  any 
but  a  speculative  Interest  ?  At  first  sight  it  would 
seem  not.  Scepticism  which  does  not  destroy  belief, 
It  Is  natural  to  suppose,  does  nothing.  This,  how- 
ever, is  by  no  means  necessarily  the  case.  If  in  the 
estimation  of  mankind  all  creeds  stood  on  a  philoso- 
phic equality,  no  doubt  an  attack  which  affected  them 
all  equally  would  probably  have   little  or  no  prac- 


298        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

tical  result.  The  only  result  it  could  reasonably  pro- 
duce would  be  general  unbelief,  and  as  I  have  just 
remarked,  general  unbelief  can  hardly  be  regarded  as 
a  possible  frame  of  mind.  But  if  in  the  estimation  of 
mankind  there  is  the  greatest  difference  in  the  rela- 
tive credibility  of  prevalent  systems  of  belief,  if  now 
one  system  now  another  is  raised  to  the  dignity  of  a 
standard  of  certainty,  it  is  plain  that  a  sceptical 
attack,  especially  if  it  deals  with  the  system  which 
happens  at  the  moment  to  be  in  favour,  may  have  con- 
siderable consequences — consequences,  at  least,  quite 
as  considerable  as  any  which  considerations  addressed 
merely  to  the  reason  are  ever  likely  to  produce. 

To  judge,  then,  of  the  true  bearing  of  arguments 
like  those  contained  in  the  preceding  chapters,  we 
must  look  not  merely  at  the  arguments  themselves, 
but  also  at  the  general  habits  of  thought  which  prevail 
at  the  time  of  their  publication.  We  must  consider 
not  only  the  nature  of  the  agent,  but  the  nature  of 
the  material  on  which  it  is  to  act. 

What,  then,  is  the  position  actually  taken  up  by 
various  sections  of  educated  men  (we  may  leave 
others  out  of  account),  towards  the  beliefs  by  which 
we  find  ourselves  surrounded  ?  Which  do  they 
accept,  which  do  they  hesitate  about,  which  do  they 
altogether  reject  ?  These  are  not  questions,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  to  which  it  is  here  either  necessary 
or  possible  to  give  full  answers.  But  in  a  sentence 
or  two  I  can  map  out  in  outline  the  creed  secretly 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  299 

or  avowedly  professed  by  the  two  largest  and 
most  important  classes  about  whom  we  need  be 
concerned. 

In  the  opinion  of  both  of  these,  beliefs  tend  to 
assimilate  themselves  to  one  of  two  types.  The 
first  type  is  that  presented  by  established  science. 
The  beliefs  which  conform  to  it  would  be  described 
as  consistent  and  positive,  as  arrived  at  by  recognised 
methods,  and  as  ultimately  resting  on  primary  axioms 
whose  certainty  is  beyond  the  reach  of  scepticism. 
An  example  of  the  second  type  may  be  found  in  any 
of  the  superstitions,  religious  or  scientific,  which  are 
now  by  universal  consent  regarded  as  the  products 
of  fanciful  ignorance.  Beliefs  of  this  kind  form  a 
floating  mass  of  error,  unorganised,  unproved,  and 
inconsistent,  which  it  is  the  business  of  true  science 
gradually  to  destroy  ;  a  duty  which  we  are  given  to 
understand  it  is  rapidly  and  effectually  accomplishing. 

Our  more  advanced  thinkers, — those  who  are  of 
opinion  that  they  have  now  reached  the  point  of  view 
from  which  in  the  indefinite  future  it  will  be  given  to 
the  whole  human  race  to  look  back  on  the  errors 
which  formerly  misled  it,  deal  very  shortly  with  the 
distribution  of  beliefs  between  these  two  types. 
Everything  which  has  to  do  with  phenomena,  every- 
thing which  they  conceive  to  belong  either  to  recog- 
nised science  or  to  scientific  conjecture,  they  put  in 
the  first  class : — it  is  either  certain,  or  belongs  to  the 
type  of  that  which  is  certain.     Everything  else  they 


300         A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

put  in  the  second  : — it  is  either  a  superstition  and 
untrue,  or  it  resembles  superstitions  and  is  beyond 
the  reach  of  proof. 

I  do  not  of  course  mean  by  these  remarks  indi- 
rectly to  accuse  them  of  classing  Ethics  among  super- 
stitions. This  would  be  unjust.  There  is  no  body 
of  men  more  careful  to  let  it  be  understood  that  the 
course  of  their  speculations  is  guided  by  the  most 
elevated  morality.  But  they  hold  that  Ethics  either 
is  scientific  or  might  be  made  so,  and  they  therefore 
regard  themselves  as  justified  in  putting  it  in  the 
first  category  with  the  rest  of  our  certain  know- 
ledge.^ 

The  second  class  of  men  whose  attitude  towards 
existing  beliefs  I  wish  to  describe  is  much  more 
numerous  (in  England  at  least)  than  the  first  class, 
but  much  less  definite  in  its  opinions.  The  people  who 
constitute  it  are  by  no  means  clear  that  all  knowledge 
excepting  that  which  is  '  scientific  '  and  deals  with 
phenomena  is  either  essentially  incapable  of  proof,  or 
else  is  mere  superstition.  On  the  contrary,  they  are 
inclined  to  admit  the  existence  of  a  sort  of  middle 
ground,  a  territory  where  we  may  provisionally  place 
the  beliefs  which,  in  respect  of  their  subject-matter, 
approach  to  the  type  of  superstitions,  while  in  respect 
of  their  probable  truth  they  resemble  science.  To 
this  region  is  consigned  Religion.     But  even  of  this 

*  See  Appendix,  at  the  end  of  the  volume,  for  a  more  detailed  dis- 
cussion of  the  subject. 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  301 

ambiguous  position  its  tenure  is  insecure.  Should 
criticism  succeed  in  doing  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
people  whose  opinions  I  am  describing  what  it  has 
long  done  to  the  satisfaction  of  our  advanced 
thinkers,  should  it  succeed,  namely,  in  demonstrating 
an  essential  Inconsistency  between  religious  and 
scientific  belief — then,  if  I  understand  rightly  their 
canons  of  judgment.  Religion  would  at  once  be  rele- 
gated to  the  class  at  present  occupied  by  delusions 
and  detected  superstitions. 

.  It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  I  think,  that  most  of  the 
persons  who  speculate  at  all  upon  the  larger  problems 
now  in  debate — and  in  these  days  everybody  dabbles 
more  or  less  in  such  speculations — belong  to  one  of 
the  two  classes  I  have  just  described.  But  the  point 
I  especially  desire  to  insist  on  Is  that  though  In  the 
first  class  are  to  be  found  almost  all  those  who  dls- 
"belleve  in  Religion,  while  the  second  includes  almost 
all  those  who  believe  In  It :  yet,  that  however  great 
may  be  the  practical  differences  between  them  (and 
their  practical  differences  are  in  some  cases  almost 
infinite),  they  nevertheless  agree  in  thinking  that  no 
more  certain  warrant  for  a  creed  can  be  found  than 
the  fact  that  Science  supports  It;  no  more  fatal 
objection  to  one,  than  the  fact  that  Science  contra- 
dicts it. 

The  result  of  this  is  not  only  that  we  are  ex- 
pected to  interest  ourselves  In  the  effect  which  scien- 
tific discoveries  have  had,  or  may  be  expected  to 


302        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

have,  on  the  historic  evolution  of  religious  thought, 
but  that  it  seems  to  be  assumed  that  the  logical  rela- 
tion which  subsists  between  the  doctrines  of  actual 
science  and  of  actual  religion  is  a  fact  of  transcendent 
theological  importance ;  so  that  the  serious  contro- 
versies of  the  day  are,  in  fact,  little  more  than  phases 
of  what  is  called  the  '  conflict  between  Science  and 
Religion.'  There  is  no  scientific  discovery  which 
has  not  therefore  an  importance  altogether  dispropor- 
tionate to  its  purely  scientific  bearing,  because  there 
is  none  which  may  not  suggest  or  confirm  a  theory 
inconsistent  with  something  long  held  to  be  an 
essential  part  of  Religion,  and  which  may  not  thus 
become  the  centre  of  a  bitter  controversy,  prompted 
far  more  by  theological  or  anti-theological  zeal  than 
by  a  dispassionate  love  of  scientific  knowledge. 

I  might  insist  on  the  evil  done  by  such  a  state  of 
things  both  to  Religion  and  to  Science,  but  at  this 
moment  I  wish  rather  to  enter  my  protest  against 
the  principle  from  which  the  evil  itself  ultimately 
springs.  Has  Science  any  claim  to  be  thus  set  up  as 
the  standard  of  belief?  Is  there  any  ground  what- 
ever for  regarding  conformity  with  scientific  teach- 
ing as  an  essential  condition  of  truth  ;  and  non- 
conformity with  it  as  an  unanswerable  proof  of 
error  ?  If  there  is,  it  cannot  be  drawn  from  the 
nature  of  the  scientific  system  itself.  We  have  seen 
in  the  preceding  pages  how  a  close  examination  of  its 
philosophical  structure  reveals  the  existence  of  almost 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  303 

every  possible  philosophical  defect.  We  have  seen 
that  whether  Science  be  regarded  from  the  point  of 
view  of  its  premises,  its  inferences,  or  the  general  rela- 
tion of  its  parts,  it  is  found  defective;  and  we  have  seen 
that  the  ordinary  proofs  which  philosophers  and  men 
of  science  have  thought  fit  to  give  of  its  doctrines 
are  not  only  mutually  inconsistent,  but  are  such  as 
would  convince  nobody  who  did  not  start  (as,  how- 
ever, we  all  do  start),  with  an  implicit  and  indestruc- 
tible confidence  in  the  truth  of  that  which  had  to 
be  proved.  I  am  far  from  complaining  of  th^e;  con- 
fidence. I  share  it.  My  complaint  rather  is,  that  of 
two  creeds  which,  from  a  philosophical  point  of  view, 
stand,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  upon  a  perfect  equality, 
one  should  be  set  up  as  a  standard  to  which  the 
other  must  necessarily  conform. 

I  am  not  insensible  that  to  some  of  my  readers 
I  may  now  appear  to  have  reached  an  extremity  of 
paradox  far  beyond  the  limits  of  sober  reason.  Even 
the  existence  of  thirteen  chapters  of  argument  which, 
whether  good  or  bad,  are  undoubtedly  serious,  may 
fail  to  convince  them  that  I  am  altogether  In  earnest. 
It  must-be  admitted  that  such  hardness  of  belief  on 
their  part  has  some  excuse.  The  vast  extension  of 
Science  in  recent  times.  Its  new  conquests  In  old 
worlds,  the  new  worlds  It  has  discovered  to  conquer, 
the  fruitfulness  of  Its  hypotheses,  the  palpable  witness 
which  material  results  bear  to  the  excellence  of  Its 
methods,  may  well  lead  men  to  think  that  the  means 


304        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

by  which  these  triumphs  have  been  attained  are  above 
the  reach  even  of  the  most  audacious  criticism.  To 
"be  told  in  the  face  of  facts  Hke  these  that  Science 
stands  on  no  higher  a  level  of  certainty  than  what 
some  people  seem  to  look  on  as  a  dying  superstition, 
may  easily  excite  in  certain  minds  a  momentary 
doubt  as  to  the  seriousness  of  the  objector.  Such 
a  doubt  is  not  likely  to  be  more  than  transient.  But 
if  any  reader,  who  has  accompanied  me  so  far, 
seriously  entertains  it,  I  can  only  invite  him,  since 
he  regards  my  conclusions  as  absurd,  to  point  out 
the  fallacies  which  vitiate  the  reasoning  on  which 
those  conclusions  are  finally  based. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  that  the  parallel  be- 
tween Science  and  Theology,  regarded  as  systems  of 
belief,  might  be  conveniently  illustrated  by  framing 
a  refutation  of  the  former  on  the  model  of  certain 
attacks  on  the  latter  with  which  we  are  all  familiar. 
We  might  begin  by  showing  how  crude  and  con- 
tradictory are  the  notions  of  primitive  man,  and 
even  of  the  cultivated  man  In  his  unreflective  mo- 
ments, respecting  the  object-matter  of  scientific  be- 
liefs. We  might  point  out  the  rude  anthropomor- 
phism which  underlies  them,  and  show  how  impos- 
sible it  is  to  get  altogether  rid  of  this  anthropomor- 
phism, without  refining  away  the  object-matter  till 
it  becomes  an  unintelligible  abstraction.  We  might 
then  turn  to  the  scientific  apologists.  We  should 
show  how  the  authorities  of  one  age  differed  from 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  305 

those  of  another  In  their  treatment  of  the  subject, 
and  how  the  authorities  of  the  same  age  differed 
among  themselves ;  then — after  taking  up  their  sys- 
tems one  after  another,  and  showing  their  Individual 
errors  In  detail — we  should  comment  at  length  on 
the  strange  obstinacy  they  evinced  in  adhering  to 
their  conclusions,  whether  they  could  prove  them  or 
not.  It  is  at  this  point,  perhaps,  that  according  to 
usage  we  might  pay  a  passing  tribute  to  morality. 
With  all  the  proper  circumlocutions,  we  should  sug- 
gest that  so  singular  an  agreement  respecting  some 
of  the  most  difficult  points  requiring  proof,  together 
with  so  strange  a  divergence  and  so  obvious  a  want 
of  cogency  In  the  nature  of  the  proofs  offered,  could 
not  be  accounted  for  on  any  hypothesis  consistent 
with  the  Intellectual  honesty  of  the  apologists. 
Without  attributing  motives  to  Individuals,  we  should 
hint  politely,  but  not  obscurely,  that  prejudice  and 
education  In  some,  the  fear  of  differing  from  the 
majority,  or  the  fear  of  losing  a  lucrative  place  In 
others,  had  been  allowed  to  warp  the  impartial  course 
of  investigation  ;  and  we  should  lament  that  scientific 
philosophers,  in  many  respects  so  amiable  and  use- 
ful a  body  of  men,  should  allow  themselves  so  often  to 
violate  principles  which  they  openly  and  even  ostenta- 
tiously avowed.  After  this  moral  display,  we  should 
turn  from  the  philosophers  who  are  occupied  with 
the  rationale  of  the  subject  to  the  main  body  of  men 
of  science  who  are  actually  engaged  in  teaching  and 

X 


3o6         A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

research.     Fully  acknowledging  their  many  merits, 
we  should  yet  be  compelled  to  ask  how  it  comes 
about  that  they  are  so  ignorant  of  the  controversies 
which  rage  round  the  very  foundations  of  their  subject, 
and  how  they  can  reconcile  it  with  their  intellectual 
self-respect,  when  they  are  asked  some  vital  question 
(say  respecting  the  proof  of  the  law  of  Universal 
Causation,  or  the  existence  of  the  external  world), 
either  to  profess  total  ignorance  of  the  subject,  or  to 
offer  in  reply  some  shreds  of  worn  out  metaphysics  ? 
It  is  true,  they  might  say  that  a  profound  study  of 
these  subjects  is  not  consistent  either  widi  teaching 
or  with  otherwise  advancing  the  cause  of  Science  ; 
but  of  course  to  this  excuse  we  should  make  the 
obvious  rejoinder  that,  before  trying  to  advance  the 
cause  of  Science,   it  would  be  as  well  to  discover 
whether  such  a  thing  as  true  Science  really  existed. 
This  done,  we  should  have  to  analyse  the  actual 
body  of  scientific   truth  presented   for   our  accept- 
ance ;    to  show   how,   while  its   conclusions   are  in- 
consistent, its  premises  are    either  lost  in  a  meta- 
physical haze,  or  else  are  unfounded  and  gratuitous 
assumptions  ;  after  which  it  would  only  remain  for 
us  to  compose  an  eloquent  peroration  on  the  debt 
which    mankind  owe  to  Science,  and   to   the  great 
masters  who  have  created  it,  and  to  mourn  that  the 
progress  of  criticism  should  have  left  us  no  choice  but 
to  count  it  among  the  beautiful  but  baseless  dreams 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  307 

which  have  so  often  deluded  the  human  race  with 
the  phantom  of  certain  knowledge. 

Of  course  a  parody — I  ought   rather  to  say  a 
parallel — of  this  sort  could  serve  no  purpose  but  to 
make  people  reflect  on  the  boldness  of  their  ordinary 
assumption  respecting  the  comparative  certainty  of 
Science  and  Religion.     But  this  alone  would  be  no 
small  gain  ;  since  in  the  present  state  of  opinion  a 
suspicion  as  to  the  truth  of  that  assumption  seems 
the  last  thing  that  naturally  suggests  itself     Why 
should  this  be  so  ?      That  men  of  Science  should 
exaggerate  the  claims  of  Science  Is  natural  and  par- 
donable, but  why  the  ordinary  public,  whose  know- 
ledge of  Science  Is  confined  to  what  they  can  extract 
from   fashionable   lectures  and  popular  handbooks, 
should   do   so.   It  is    not  quite  easy  to  understand. 
Perhaps  I  shall  be  told  that  there  Is  a  very  simple 
explanation  of  this  strange  unanimity  of  opinion — 
namely,  the  fact  that  the  opinion  Is  true.     To  this  I 
reply  that,  even  If  we  dismiss  all  the  reasons  I  have 
given  for  thinking  that  the  opinion  is  not  true,  the 
objector  will    hardly  assert  that  the  general  public 
(of  whom  alone   I   have  been  speaking)  have  ever 
made  themselves  acquainted  with  the  sort  of  reasons 
by  which  alone  the  opinion  can  be  known  to  be  true, 
still  less  that  they  have   taken  the  trouble  to  weigh 
those  reasons  with  care.     While,  if  it  be  further  sug- 
gested that  they  are  guided  by  an  unerring  instinct 
in  such  matters,  I  answer  that  their  instinct  cannot 

X  2 


3o8        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

always  be  unerring,    for  history  sufficiently  shows 
that  it  has  not  always  been  the  same. 

Another  reason  may  be  given,  which  in  part 
accounts  for  the  fact,  though  after  all  it  only  re- 
moves the  difficulty  a  stage  further  back.  It  may 
be  alleged  that  the  popular  opinion  is  merely  a  re- 
flection of  the  popular  literature,  and  that  the  truth 
of  the  assumption  I  am  calling  in  question  is  gene- 
rally believed  by  the  many  who  read,  simply  because 
it  is  constantly  asserted  by  the  few  who  write.  This 
no  doubt  is  accurate,  and  up  to  a  certain  point  is  an 
explanation.  There  exists  now  a  kind  of  literature, 
already  large  and  of  growing  importance,  produced 
by  experts  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  desire  to  be 
'generally  informed  '  ;  which,  unlike  most  ephemeral 
literature,  leads  public  opinion  rather  than  follows  it. 
Of  course  the  greater  part  of  this,  whether  it  consists 
of  handbooks  or  of  review  articles,  has  no  bearing 
whatever  on  the  relation  which  ought  to  exist  between 
Religion  and  Science,  or  with  the  positive  evidence 
that  may  exist  for  either.  But  just  as  popular  accounts 
of  chemistry,  physiology,  or  history  appear  in  answer 
to  the  natural  desire  of  an  educated  but  busy  public 
for  as  much  knowledge  as  possible,  about  as  many 
things  as  possible,  with  as  little  trouble  as  possible  : 
so  there  are  easily  found  eminent  authors  anxious 
to  purvey  for  that  apparently  increasing  class  of 
persons  who  aspire  to  be  advanced  thinkers,  but 
who  like  to  have  their  advanced  thinking  done  for 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  309 

them.  Now  the  very  starting  point  of  these  pro- 
ductions is  the  principle  that  Science  is  the  one 
thing  certain,  that  everything  which  cannot  be  proved 
by  scientific  means  is  incapable  of  proof,  and  that 
everything  which  is  inconsistent  with  Science  is 
thereby  disproved.  And  since  this  is  a  doctrine 
which  is  constantly  reiterated,  since  it  is  one  which  in 
the  '  struggle  for  existence '  has  the  great  advantage 
of  being  not  only  easily  stated,  but  easily  under- 
stood  ;  we  need  not  be  surprised  that  a  not  very 
critical  public  should  readily  believe  it,  without  taking 
any  great  pains  to  examine  into  the  nature  of  its 
evidence.  How  it  comes  about  that  the  distinguished 
authors  who  so  serenely  take  for  granted  this  prin- 
ciple of  criticism  should  themselves  never  be  troubled 
by  any  suspicion  as  to  its  solidity  is,  I  admit,  harder 
to  understand.  It  would  have  required,  I  should 
have  supposed,  much  less  philosophical  knowledge 
and  philosophical  acumen  than  that  possessed,  for 
example,  by  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  or  Professor 
Huxley,  to  suggest  to  their  minds  doubts  as  to  the 
rational  character  of  the  dogmatic  system  in  which 
they  so  confidently  put  their  trust ;  and,  once  sug- 
gested and  unanswered,  the  smallest  doubt  should  be 
sufficient  to  prevent  them  raising  that  system  into  a 
standard  by  which  the  value  of  all  other  systems  of 
belief  might  properly  be  estimated. 

Without,  however,  making  any  special  attack  on 
individuals,  the  nature  of  my  indictment  against  the 


3IO        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

general  body  of  anti-religious  controversialists  may 
be  easily  stated.  The  force  of  their  attack  depends 
in  the  last  resort  upon  the  discrepancy  they  find,  or 
think  they  find,  between  Religion  and  Science.  It 
must  require,  therefore,  a  belief  in,  at  all  events,  the 
comparative  certitude  of  Science.  On  what  does 
this  belief  finally  depend  ?  Are  we  to  suppose  that 
they  rest  its  whole  weight  on  the  frail  foundation 
supplied  by  the  contradictory  fragments  of  Philosophy 
we  have  been  discussing  through  all  these  chapters  ? 
Or  are  we  to  suppose  that  their  belief  is  a  mere 
assumption,  with  no  other  recommendation  than  that 
it  is  agreeable  to  the  spirit  of  the  age  ?  Or  are  we 
to  suppose  that  it  is  established  by  some  esoteric 
proof,  known  only  to  the  few,  and  not  yet  published 
for  the  benefit  of  the  world  at  large  ?  The  first 
of  these  alternatives  implies  in  the  thinkers  of  whom 
I  speak  the  existence  of  an  easy  credulity  in  singular 
contrast  with  the  acute  scepticism  they  display  when 
dealing  with  beliefs  they  do  not  happen  to  share. 
The  second  is,  I  think,  hardly  worthy  of  a  class  of 
writers  who  appeal  so  often  and  so  earnestly  to 
Reason,  and  who  particularly  pride  themselves  on 
proportioning  the  strength  of  their  convictions  to  the 
strength  of  the  evidence  on  which  they  rest.  But  if 
the  third  alternative  represents  the  real  state  of  the 
case,  we  have,  I  think,  a  right  to  ask  that  the  conceal- 
ment which  the  opponents  of  Religion  are  practising 
with  so  remarkable  an  unanimity  should  come  to  an 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  311 

end,  and  that  since  the  philosophy  of  Science  exists,  it 
should  forthwith  be  produced  for  our  enlightenment. 
It  is  but  justice,  however,  to  the  philosophic  and 
literary  advocates  of  extreme  scientific  pretensions, 
to  remark  that  the  blame  which  I  have  been  laying 
on  them  should  in  part  be  shared  by  theologians. 
I  do  not  mean,  of  course,  that  many  theologians  of 
repute  could  be  found  prepared  to  assert  that  Re- 
ligion must   either  be   proved  wholly  by  scientific 
methods,  and   be   shown  to  harmonise   completely 
with    scientific   conclusions,    or   else   be   summarily 
rejected ;  but  I  do  assert  that  the  extreme  anxiety 
exhibited  by  certain  of  them  to  establish  the  perfect 
congruity  of  Science  and  Religion — the  existence  of 
a   whole   class    of  *  apologists,'    the   end   of  whose 
labours   appears    to   be   to    explain,    or   to   explain 
away,    every  appearance   of  contradiction   between 
the    two — are    facts   which    naturally   suggest    the 
conclusion  that  the  assumption  made  by  the  Free- 
thinkers ^  is  a  legitimate  one. 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.     Truth  is  one. 
Therefore  any  attempt  to  reconcile  inconsistent  or 


^  It  is  not  easy  to  find  a  single  word  to  describe  the  opponents  of 
Religion  which  is  altogether  free  from  objection.  Most  of  the  terms 
which  suggest  themselves  have  either  acquired  a  somewhat  offensive 
connotation,  or  are  inexact.  One  or  both  of  these  defects  attaches  to 
the  words  ^  Infidel,'  '  Atheist/  '  Agnostic,'  and  '  Sceptic'  I  have 
pitched  upon  '  Freethinker '  because,  if  it  suggests  comparisons  not  alto- 
gether flattering  to  the  modern  assailants  of  theology,  on  the  other 
hand,  this  is  made  up  for  by  the  fact  that  the  strict  meaning  of  the 
word  credits  them  with  a  virtue  to  which  they  have  no  exclusive  title. 


312        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

apparently  inconsistent  beliefs  is  in  itself  legitimate/ 
and  in  so  far  as  apologetics  aim  at  this  and  at  nothing 
more,  I  have  not  a  word  to  say  against  them  ;  but 
the  manner  in  which  the  controversy  is  carried  on, 
even  from  the  theological  side,  occasionally  suggests 
the  idea,  not  only  that  a  consistent  creed  embracing 
both  scientific  and  religious  doctrines  may  be  made 
at  some  time  or  other,  but  that  it  ought  to  be  made 
now,  and  by  no  process  more  elaborate  than  that  of 
lopping  off  from  Religion  everything  which  is  not 
exactly  agreeable  with  Science. 

Yet  the  apologists  should  be  the  first  to  recognise 
the  fact  that  this  Procrustean  method  of  reconciliation 
is  not  one  which  ought  ever  to  be  applied  to  their 
theological  convictions.  Its  very  ground  and  justi- 
fication is  the  idea  that  enforced  consistency  is  the 
shortest  road  to  truth.  But  if  this  be  so,  what  are 
we  to  think  of  religious  mysteries  ? 

Religious  mysteries  I  suppose  to  be  objects  of 
belief  which  so  nearly  elude  the  utmost  stretch  of 
our  imagination,  that  they  can  be  only  vaguely 
and  imperfectly  described  in  words  ;  or  of  such  a 
nature  that  any  definite  attempt  to  express  their 
attributes  in  formulae  results  in  a  contradiction  in 
terms.  Brought  face  to  face  with  such  a  contradic- 
tion, a  man  may  pursue  one  of  three  courses  :  he 
may  reject  both  contradictories— that  is,  refuse  to 
believe  in  the  thing  described  ;  he  may  accept  one 
of  the  contradictories,  and  thus  escape  inconsistency 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  3(3 

at  the  cost  (it  may  be)  of  completeness ;  or  he  may- 
accept  both  contradictories,  thinking  thereby  to  ob- 
tain, under  however  unsatisfactory  a  form,  the  fullest 
measure  of  truth  which  he  is  at  present  able  to  grasp. 
This  last  course  is  the  one  which  in  some  cases  all 
(even  merely  natural)  theologians  have  pursued.  It 
is  therefore  a  matter  of  surprise  that  so  many  of 
them — thinking,  as  they  must,  that  religious  truth 
cannot  always  be  so  expressed  as  to  be  consistent  with 
itself — should  argue  as  if  it  ought  necessarily  to  be 
expressed  so  as  to  be  consistent  with  Science. 

Perhaps  the  reader  may  be  inclined  to  object  to 
the  foregoing  considerations,  that  if  they  are  adapted 
to  support  Religion  in  its  existing  shape,  they  are 
not  less  well  adapted  to  support  any  Religion  how- 
ever absurd,  or  any  superstition  however  gross. 
Arguments  against  one  form  of  belief  are  rebutted, 
by  rendering  argument  against  any  form  of  belief 
impossible.  Immunity  from  one  kind  of  criticism  is 
obtained  only  by  the  costly  process  of  dethroning  all 
de  facto  authority  in  the  realm  of  opinion,  and  intro- 
ducing into  it,  thereby,  every  species  of  license  and 
confusion. 

Before  considering  the  precise  extent  to  which 
these  forebodings  as  to  the  consequences  of  philoso- 
phic scepticism  are  really  well  founded,  I  must  point 
out  that  for  the  consequences  themselves  I  am  in  no 
way  responsible.  They  are  the  results  of  an  inves- 
tigation of  a  purely  speculative  character  conducted 


314        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

with  all  the  impartiality  in  my  power ;  and  though  I 
admit  that  I  should  probably  never  have  troubled 
myself  to  put  them  into  shape,  had  I  not  hoped 
that  they  might  have  some  practical  results,  the 
thought  of  those  results  if  it  has  prompted  the  com- 
mencement of  the  undertaking  has  in  no  way  modified 
its  course.  Even,  therefore,  if  my  conclusions  should 
tend  to  foster  forms  of  belief  with  which  neither  the 
Freethinkers  nor  I  happen  to  agree,  I  shall  expect 
full  absolution  from  a  body  of  writers  who  have 
constituted  themselves  the  especial  champions  of  the 
doctrine  that  no  enquiry  should  be  discouraged  out 
of  mere  apprehension  of  its  consequences. 

To  return  to  the  objection  itself.  It  must  be 
noted,  In  the  first  place,  that  when  I  suggest  that 
practically  we  need  not  or  cannot  regulate  our  beliefs 
in  strict  accordance  with  the  results  of  rational  cri- 
ticism, I  am  driven  to  make  the  suggestion  not  be- 
cause I  have  used  reason  less  freely,  but  because  I 
have  used  It  more  freely  than  is  usual  upon  subjects 
respecting  which  people,  as  a  rule,  accept  their 
opinion  without  much  preliminary  examination.  But 
this  unfettered  use  of  Reason  need  only  produce  an 
.irrational  and  therefore  unsatisfactory  and  provisional 
attitude  of  mind  when  we  are  dealing  with  Science 
as  a  whole,  i.e.  as  a  single  system  of  belief;  and  it  by 
no  means  excludes  or  tends  to  exclude  the  use  of 
Reason  within  that  (or  any  other)  system  for  the  pur- 
pose of  harmonising  or  co-ordinating  its  parts,  nor 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  315 

even  from  using  it  to  modify  details  of  the  system 
for  the  purpose  of  producing  as  much  consistency 
as  possible  between  the  different  creeds  which  we 
happen  to  hold.  Any  person,  therefore,  taking  my 
view  of  these  questions,  would  be  at  liberty,  nay 
would  be  bound,  to  regulate  his  beliefs  within  the 
sphere  of  Science  according  to  rational  principles,  to 
the  same  extent  and  in  precisely  the  same  way  as 
the  ordinary  man  of  science  does  ;  the  only  differ- 
ence between  them  being  that  the  sceptical  philo- 
sopher does  so  in  the  full  consciousness,  and  the  man 
of  science  in  utter  unconsciousness,  that  the  system 
he  is  dealing  with  is,  as  a  whole,  incapable  of  any 
rational  defence.  Of  course,  if  Religion  is  thought 
to  stand  in  this  respect  on  a  level  with  Science  (a 
point  which  it  has  not  been  my  business  to  discuss), 
the  same  remarks,  miUatis  mutandis,  may  properly 
be  applied  to  it. 

It  appears  then  that  the  practical  conclusions  I 
draw  from  a  sceptical  philosophy  have  little  or  no 
tendency  to  alter  the  internal  structure  of  any  actual 
or  possible  creed.  But  it  may  still  be  objected  that 
they  give  free  scope  to  the  simultaneous  existence 
of  any  number  of  creeds,  no  matter  how  foolish  or 
how  contradictory  these  may  happen  to  be.  Now 
in  considering  this  question,  it  must  be  recollected 
that  I  have  not  presented  or  attempted  to  present 
any  arguments  in  favour  of  Theology.  I  have 
shown    indeed,    or    attempted    to   show,    that    the . 


3i6        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

fundamental  assumption  of  most  of  its  assailants  is 
altogether  baseless.  But  after  such  demonstration 
the  positive  motives  which  produce  theological  belief 
remain  precisely  what  they  were — they  are  not 
strengthened  because  Science  is  proved  to  be  phi- 
losophically unsound,  they  would  not  be  weakened 
if  a  complete  philosophy  of  Science  were  to  be 
produced  to-morrow.  The  extent,  therefore,  to 
which  this  attack  on  Science  might  theoretically 
produce  a  chaos  of  conflicting  creeds  is  easy  to 
determine.  It  will  preserve  from  destruction  those 
creeds  and  those  only  which,  while  they  have  a 
claim  on  our  beliefs  like  that  possessed  by  Science 
and  Theology,  are,  as  Theology  is  by  some  supposed 
to  be,  in  contradiction  with  Science.  If  there  be 
any  system  of  belief  answering  to  this  description, 
its  adherents  are  welcome  to  any  assistance  they  can 
derive  from  the  arguments  of  this  Essay.  I  can 
only  say,  for  my  part,  that  if  it  exists,  I  know  not 
where  it  is  to  be  found. 

There  is  one  more  question  suggested  by  what 
has  been  said  in  the  course  of  the  preceding  remarks, 
to  which  the  reader  may  desire  an  answer.  He 
may  wish  to  know  what  constitute  the  *  claims  on 
our  belief  which  I  assert  to  be  possessed  alike  by 
Science  and  Theology,  and  which  I  put  forward  as 
the  sole  practical  foundation  on  which  our  convictions 
ultimately  rest. 

In  dealing  with  this  subject  it  can,  I  suppose,  be 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  317 

hardly  necessary  to  repeat  what  the  whole  tenor  of 
this  Essay  goes  to  prove,  namely,  that  these  Claims 
to  Belief  do  not  consist,  so  far  as  Science  at  least 
is  concerned,  in  reasons.  Whatever  they  may  be, 
they  are  not  rational  grounds  of  conviction,  raised 
by  their  very  nature  above  the  reach  of  criticism. 
It  would  be  more  proper  to  describe  them  as  a 
kind  of  inward  inclination  or  impulse,  falling  far 
short  of — I  should  perhaps  rather  say,  altogether 
differing  In  kind  from — philosophic  certitude,  leav- 
ing the  reason  therefore  unsatisfied,  but  amounting 
nevertheless  to  a  practical  cause  of  belief,  from 
the  effects  of  which  we  do  not  even  desire  to  be 
released.  The  object  of  this  unreasoning  belief  is 
not,  however,  as  It  ought  to  be  if  our  creeds  were 
truly  rational,  the  ultimate  premises  from  which  all 
the  other  elements  of  the  creed  are  inferred  :  it  Is 
rather  the  cree  1  as  a  whole,  or  even  certain  arbitrarily 
selected  parts  of  it.  In  the  case  of  Science,  indeed, 
this  can  hardly  be  otherwise,  since  Its  premises  are 
(as  we  have  seen)  not  yet  properly  determined  ;  while 
in  so  far  as  they  are  determined,  they  are  explicitly 
known  to  but  few  persons  :  and  of  those  few  there  is 
probably  not  one  who  did  not  believe  in  Science  be- 
fore he  thought  of  it  in  relation  to  its  premises,  and 
who  would  not  continue  to  believe  in  it,  if  all  such 
thoughts  were  obliterated  from  his  mind. 

The  reader  may,  perhaps,  think  that  we  ought 
not  to  rest  content  with  anything  so  unsatisfactory 


3i8        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

as  this  *  Impulse.'  If  so,  I  am  quite  of  his  mind.  It 
is  assuredly  unsatisfactory  ;  and  assuredly  we  ought 
not  to  rest  content  with  it.  I  know  of  no  means, 
however,  by  which  the  evil  can  at  present  be  rem.e- 
died,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  discovery  of  such 
means  is  not  likely  to  be  hastened  by  the  claims  to 
rationality  which  the  assailants  of  Religion  are  accus- 
tomed to  put  forth  in  favour  of  their  own  more 
limited  creed. 

But  perhaps  it  will  be  said,  '  Grant  that  this  *'  im- 
pulse "  of  which  you  speak  is  the  whole  motive  on 
account  of  which  mankind  accept  their  stock  of 
beliefs,  still  you  have  not  put  Science  and  Religion 
on  an  equality,  since  it  is  obvious  that  the  *'  im- 
pulse" is  much  more  universal  in  the  case  of  the 
former  than  it  is  in  the  case  of  the  latter.'  If  the 
comparative  universality  here  claimed  for  the  Scien- 
tific impulse  was  measured  by  the  comparative 
number  of  persons  who  accepted  respectively  the 
general  body  of  Scientific  and  Religious  doctrines,  I 
apprehend  that  the  objection  I  have  just  stated 
would  have  no  standing  ground  on  fact.  There  is, 
however,  a  better  interpretation  to  be  put  on  it.  We 
may  conceive  the  objection  to  mean  that  while 
nobody  does  or  can  possibly  exist  without  believing 
in  some  scientific  doctrines — as  that  fire  burns  or 
food  nourishes — we  can  find  plenty  of  persons 
among  those  who  have  either  never  heard  of  Reli- 
gion,   or    who    have    persuaded    themselves    that 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  319 

Religion  is  false — street  arabs  or  advanced  thinkers 
— who  do  not  accept  even  the  smallest  and  most 
perverted  fragment  of  religious  truth. 

The  fact  In  this  case  is  undoubted  ;  but  to  bring 
it  forward  as  an  objection  to  my  view  implies  a 
double  error.  It  implies,  in  the  first  place,  that  the 
impulse  of  which  I  speak  is  a  logical  ground  for 
accepting  Religion  or  Science,  as  the  case  may  be  ; 
and  it  implies,  in  the  second  place,  that  this  supposed 
ground  is  of  the  kind  which  I  have  already  sufficiently 
dealt  with,^  under  the  name  of  *  The  Argument  from 
General  Consent.'  My  imaginary  critic,  in  short, 
supposes  that  I  regard  an  ultimate  impulse  to  believe 
a  creed  as  a  reason  for  believing  it ;  and  he  supposes 
also  that  this  ultimate  *  impulse '  is  a  better  reason,  the 
more  people  there  are  who  feel  its  influence.  Neither 
of  these  opinions  Is  accurate  :  on  the  contrary,  they 
imply  a  total  misconception  as  to  the  theory  I  am 
endeavouring  to  explain.  This  theory  may  be  re- 
garded as  having  two  sides — one  negative  and  the 
other  positive.  The  negative  side,  the  truth  of  which 
is  capable  of  demonstration,  amounts  to  an  asser- 
tion that  Religion  is,  at  any  rate,  no  worse  off  than 
Science  in  the  matter  of  proof ;  that  neither  from  the 
fact  (If  fact  It  be)  that  Religion  only  imperfectly  har- 
monises with  experience,  nor  from  the  fact  that 
while  men  of  science  agree  substantially  with  each 
other  in  their  methods  and  in  their  results,  theolo- 

^  Cf.  ch.  vii.  * 


320        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

glans  differ  profoundly  from  each  other  In  both,  nor 
from  any  other  known  difference  between  the  two 
systems  can  any  legitimate  conclusion  be  drawn  as 
to  their  comparative  certitude.  The  positive  side, 
on  the  other  hand,  which  cannot  properly  be  held  to 
supply  any  rational  ground  of  assent,  and  Is  In  no 
way  capable  of  actual  demonstration  amounts  to 
this — that  I  and  an  Indefinite  number  of  other  per- 
sons, If  we  contemplate  Religion  and  Science  as 
unproved  systems  of  belief  standing  side  by  side, 
feel  a  practical  need  for  both ;  and  If  this  need  Is, 
in  the  case  of  those  few  and  fragmentary  scientific 
truths  by  which  we  regulate  our  animal  actions,  of 
an  especially  imperious  and  indestructible  character 
— on  the  other  hand,  the  need  for  religious  truth, 
rooted  as  It  Is  in  the  loftiest  region  of  our  moral 
nature.  Is  one  from  which  we  would  not,  If  we  could, 
be  freed.  But  as  no  legitimate  argument  can  be 
founded  on  the  mere  existence  of  this  need  or  Im- 
pulse, so  no  legitimate  argument  can  be  founded 
on  any  differences  which  psychological  analysis  may 
detect  between  different  cases  of  its  manifestation. 
We  are  in  this  matter  unfortunately  altogether  out- 
side the  sphere  of  Reason.  It  must  always  be 
useless  to  discuss  whether  a  particular  Impulse 
towards  a  creed  is  either  of  the  right  strength  or 
of  the  right  quality  to  justify  a  belief  In  It ;  be- 
cause a  belief  can,  in  strictness,  be  justified  by  no 
impulse,  whatever  be  Its  strength  or  whatever  Its 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  321 

quality.  On  the  other  hand,  let  no  man  who 
agrees  with  the  reasoning  of  this  Essay  say,  *  I 
cannot  believe  in  any  creed  which  I  know  to  be 
without  evidence,  merely  because  I  feel  a  subjec- 
tive need  for  it,'  unless  he  is  prepared  to  limit  his 
beliefs  to  those  detached  scientific  (or  metaphysical) 
propositions  which  are,  I  apprehend,  the  only  ones 
he  must  in  practice  accept  whether  he  likes  it  or  not, 
or  unless  he  can  find  some  motive  for  believing  in 
Science  which  is  not  an  impulse  and  at  the  same 
time  is  not  a  reason.  Let  him,  if  he  will,  accept 
Science  and  reject  Religion,  but  let  him  not  give  as 
an  explanation  of  his  behaviour  an  argument  which 
would  be  as  appropriate — or  inappropriate — if  he 
were  engaged  in  showing  why  he  accepted  Religion 
and  rejected  Science. 

The  doctrine  that  no  rational  justification  exists 
for  adopting  a  different  attitude  towards  the  two 
systems  of  belief,  depends,  it  should  be  noted,  not 
only  on  the  fact  that  we  are  without  any  rational 
ground  for  believing  in  Science,  but  also  on  the 
fact  that  we  are  without  any  rational  ground  for  de- 
termining the  logical  relation  which  ought  to  subsist 
between  Science  and  Religion.  The  Freethinkers 
habitually  assume  that  this  relation  is  one  of  depend- 
ence on  the  part  of  Religion,  and  that  if  there  exist 
any  reason  for  believing  it  at  all,  these  reasons  are 
to  be  found  scattered  up  and  down  among  the  doc- 
trines of  Science  ;  confusing  apparently  the  historic 


322         A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

reasoning  by  which  particular  religious  truths  are 
established,  with  the  deeper  sentiments  by  which 
Religion  itself  is  produced,  and  in  the  light  of  which 
these  historic  reasonings  are  conducted.  Those, 
however,  who  make  this  assumption  offer  no  proof 
of  it,  nor  do  they,  so  far  as  I  know,  even  indicate 
the  kind  of  proof  of  which  they  conceive  it  to  be 
susceptible.  They  accept  it,  as  they  accept  so  many 
other  assumptions,  not  only  without  having  any  evi- 
dence for  it  whatever  (which  I  should  not  complain 
of),  but  without  being  apparently  conscious  that  any 
evidence  whatever  is  required. 

In  the  absence  then  of  reason  to  the  contrary, 
I  am  content  to  regard  the  two  great  creeds  by 
which  we  attempt  to  regulate  our  lives  as  rest- 
ing in  the  main  •  upon  separate  bases.  So  long, 
therefore,  as  neither  of  them  can  lay  claim  to  phi- 
losophic probability,  discrepancies  which  exist  or 
may  hereafter  arise  between  them  cannot  be  con- 
sidered as  bearing  more  heavily  against  the  one 
than  they  do  against  the  other.  But  if  a  really 
valid  philosophy,  which  would  support  Science  to 
the  exclusion  of  Religion,  or  Religion  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  Science,  were  discovered,  the  case  would 
be  somewhat  different,  and  it  would  undoubtedly  be 
difficult  for  that  creed  which  is  not  philosophically 
established  to  exist  beside  the  other  while  in  contra- 
diction to  it — difficult,  I  say,  not  absolutely  impossi- 
ble.    In  the  meanwhile,  unfortunately,  this  does  not 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  323 

seem  likely  to  become  a  practical  question.     What 
has  to  be  determined  now  is  the  course  which  ought 
to  be  pursued  with  regard  to  discrepancies  between 
systems,  neither  of  which  can  be  regarded  as  philo- 
sophically established,  but  neither  of  which  can  we 
consent  to  surrender ;  and  on  this  subject,  of  course, 
it  is  only  possible  to  make  suggestions   which  may 
perhaps    commend  themselves   to  the  practical  in- 
stincts of  the  reader,  though  they  cannot  compel  his 
intellectual  assent.     In  my  judgment,  then,  if  these 
discrepancies  are  such  that,  they  can  be  smoothed 
away  by  concessions  on  either  side  which  do  not 
touch  essentials,  the  concessions  should  be  made  ; 
but  if,  which  is  not  at  present  the  case,  consistency 
can  only  be  purchased  by  practically  destroying  one 
or  other  of  the  conflicting  creeds,  I  should  elect  In 
favour   of  inconsistency — not  because  I  should  be 
content  with  knowledge,  which  being  self-contradic- 
tory must  needs  be  in  some  particulars  false,  but 
because  a  logical  harmony  obtained  by  the  arbitrary 
destruction  of  all  discordant  elements  may  be  bought 
at  far  too  great  a  sacrifice  of  essential  and  necessary 
truth. 

It  Is  not  probable  that  to  these  opinions  (whose 
correctness  is,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  altogether 
Incapable  of  demonstration)  I  shall  obtain  the  assent 
of  many  scientific  philosophers  ;  still  less  is  it  likely 
that  I  shall  convert  any  of  those  more  declared 
assailants   of  Theology    to  whom   I   have   alluded 

Y  2 


324        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

several  times  in  this  chapter.     But  If  the  arguments 
of  this  Essay  prove  Insufficient  (as  they  doubtless 
will)  to  Induce  these  writers  to  agree  with  the  Theo- 
logical opinions  to  which  I  adhere,  perhaps  they  may 
effect  some  alteration  In  the  mode  In  which  a  per- 
fectly   legitimate    disagreement   Is    at    present    ex- 
pressed and  defended.     I  do  not,  of  course,  see  any 
reason  why  the  Freethinkers  should  not  continue  to 
derive  what  advantage  they  may,  from  the  use  of 
these  convenient   phrases,   by  a  judicious  employ- 
ment of  which  It  is  possible  to  Imply  that  they  are 
in  possession  of  the  last  secrets  revealed  by  Time, 
while  their  adversaries  are  still  struggling   in  the 
toils   of  ancestral   prejudice.      There   need   be   no 
objection  taken,  for   instance,   to   their   advertising 
their  opinions  as  the  Indications  of  *  progress,*  the 
results   of  *  culture,'  or  the  offspring  of  '  advanced 
thought.*     The  direct  facts  so  stated  are  in  a  sense 
true,  and  the  implications  intended  are  not,  perhaps, 
very  damaging  to  their  opponents.     But  it  would  be 
well,  I  think,  if  the  sanction  of  Reason  were  less 
often  and  less  loudly  Invoked  In  favour  of  opinions 
with  which,  so  far  as  at  present  appears.  Reason  has 
very  little  to  do.     It  would  be  well  If  an  appeal  to 
the   religious    need,  instinct,   impulse — call  it  what 
you  will — were  no  longer  openly  asserted  to  be  an 
argument  in  favour  of  Theology  so  weak  that  it 
practically  concedes  the  whole  case,  by  writers  who 
would  be  puzzled  if  they  were  required  to  produce 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  325 

anything  better  in  favour  of  Science.  And  It  would 
be  well  If  an  examination  Into  the  truth  of  Religion 
were  less  persistently  inculcated  as  a  moral  duty, 
Incumbent  on  all  believers,  by  philosophers,  to 
whom  it  never  seems  to  occur  that  Religion  Is  not 
the  only  creed  to  which  a  rule  of  that  kind,  if  valid 
at  all,  would  necessarily  apply. 


It  is  not  necessary,  I  think,  that  I  should  add 
anything  more  in  explanation  of  my  attitude  towards 
those  positive  beliefs  which  I  hold  in  harmony  with, 
though  not  as  conclusions  from,the  negative  criticisms 
contained  in  the  body  of  this  Essay.     I  am  painfully 
aware  of  how  few  there  are,  even  among  those  few 
whom  the  dry  and  abstruse  character  of  the  argument 
does  not  repel,  who  are  likely  to  be  the  least  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  point  of  view  I  have  been  trying  to 
defend.     It  will  hardly  find  favour  either  with  the 
ordinary  believer  or  with  the  ordinary  unbeliever. 
As  regards   the   former,   indeed,   I   console   myself 
by  thinking  that  the  only  practical  end    I    desire 
has  been   in  their  case   already  attained.     But   as 
regards   the   latter,    I   am  afraid  that   I   have  said 
nothing  which  they  will  even  consider  relevant  to 
their  own  difficulties — if  they  have  any — respecting 
the  choice  of  a  creed.     They  either  ignore  or  are 
without  that  religious  impulse,  in   the   absence   of 
which  it  is  useless  to  clear  away,   by  any  merely 


326        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

dialectical  process,  the  obstructions  that,  did  It  exist, 
would  hinder  its  free  development.     Their  case  is 
not  one  that  can  be  reached  by  argument,  and  argu- 
ment is  all  I  have  to  offer.     Even  could  I  command 
the  most  fervid  and  persuasive  eloquence,  could  I 
rouse  with  power  the  slumbering  feelings  which  find 
in  Religion  their  only  lasting  satisfaction  ;  could  I 
compel   every  reader   to   long   earnestly  and   with 
passion  for  some  living  share  in  that  Faith  which 
has  been  the  spiritual  life  of  millions  ignorant  alike 
of  Science  and  Philosophy,  this  is  not  the  occasion 
on  which  to  do  so.     I  should  shrink  from  dragging 
into  a  controversy   pitched  throughout  In  another 
key,  thoughts  whose  full  and  intimate  nature  it  is 
given  to  few  adequately  to  express,  and  which,  were 
I  one  of  those  few,  would  seem  strangely  misplaced 
at  the  conclusion  of  this  dry  and  scholastic  argument 
In    any  case,   however,    such  a  task  is    beyond 
my  powers,  and  therefore  I  cannot  hope  that  my 
reasoning,  even  could  I  suppose  it  to  be  unanswer- 
able, will  produce  any  but  a  negative  effect  on  those 
who   approach  the    question  of   religious    truth    in 
that  indifferent    mood  which    they  would    perhaps 
themselves    describe    as     intellectual     impartiality. 
There  may,  however,  be  some  of  another  temper, 
who  would  regard  Religion  as  the  most  precious  of 
all  inheritances — if  only  it  were  true  ;  who  surrender 
slowly  and  unwillingly,  to  what  they  conceive  to  be 
unanswerable  argument,  convictions  with  which  yet 


PRACTICAL  RESULTS.  327 

they  can  scarcely  bear  to  part ;  who,  for  the  sake  of 
Truth,  are  prepared  to  give  up  what  they  had  been 
wont  to  think  of  as  their  guide  in  this  life,  their 
hope  In  another,  and  to  take  refuge  in  some  of  the 
strange  substitutes  for  ReHgion  provided  by  the 
ingenuity  of  these  latter  times.  It  is  not  impossible 
that  to  some  of  these,  hesitating  between  arguments 
to  which  they  can  find  no  reply  and  a  creed  which 
they  feel  to  be  necessary,  the  line  of  thought  sug- 
gested by  this  chapter  may  be  of  service.  Should 
such  prove  to  be  the  case,  this  Essay  will  have  an 
interest  and  a  utility  beyond  that  of  pure  Specula- 
tion ;  and  I  shall  be  more  than  satisfied. 


328        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 


NOTE   ON   THE  DISCREPANCY  BETWEEN 
RELIGION  AND  SCIENCE. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  there  was  a  good  deal  of  refer- 
ence to  the  discrepancy  which  exists,  or  is  supposed  to 
exist,  between  Religion  and  Science.  To  determine  the 
actual  amount  of  such  discrepancy,  or  even  to  decide 
whether  it  has  any  reality  or  not,  was  in  no  way  necessary 
to  my  main  argument ;  but  it  may  be  convenient  to  in- 
dicate in  a  note  the  general  view  which  I  should  be  dis- 
posed to  take  of  a  question  which,  though  its  importance 
has  been  greatly  exaggerated,  is  not  without  interest. 

The  discord  between  Science  and  Religion  has  refer- 
ence chiefly,  if  not  entirely,  to  the  interference  by  the 
supernatural  with  the  natural,  which  Religion  requires  us 
to  believe  in  ;  and  the  amount  of  this  discord  may  be 
measured  by  the  importance  of  the  scientific  doctrines 
which  such  a  belief  would  require  us  to  give  up,  if  we  were 
determined  at  all  hazards  to  make  the  two  systems  con- 
sistent with  each  other.  In  discussing  this  subject,  I  shall 
assume,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  this  interference  is 
not,  as  has  been  often  suggested,  produced  immediately 
by  the  operation  of  some  unknown  though  natural  law  ; 
but  that  the  common  opinion  is  correct  which  attributes  it 
to  the  direct  action  of  a  Supernatural  Power.  The  ques- 
tion therefore  we  have  to  ask,  is  this  :  What  scientific 
beliefs  do  we  contradict  if  we  assert  that  a  Supernatural 
Power  has  on  various  occasions  interfered  with  the  opera- 
tion of  natural  laws  ?     '  We  contradict,'  it  will  be  replied, 


RELIGION   AND   SCIENCE.  329 

*the  belief  in  the  uniformity  of  Nature/  Is  the  belief 
which  is  thus  contradicted  particularly  important  then  to 
Science  ?  '  So  important/  many  people  would  answer, 
*  that  it  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  our  scientific  reasoning, 
as  well  as  all  of  our  practical  judgments/  This  I  understand 
to  be  the  opinion  of  the  two  most  recent  assailants  of 
Theology  who,  so  far  as  I  know,  have  touched  on  the  sub- 
ject— namely,  the  author  of  *  Supernatural  Religion  '  and 
Mr.  Leslie  Stephen.  The  former  of  these,  whose  treatment 
of  the  whole  question  suggests  a  suspicion  that  he  is  hardly 
equal  to  dealing  with  the  profounder  problems  which  he 
has  undertaken  to  solve,  I  need  not  further  allude  to.  Mr. 
Stephen,  however,  may  be  quoted  with  advantage.  *  If  it 
is  not  contrary,'  he  says,  *  to  the  laws  of  Nature  that  the 
dead  shall  be  raised,  or  one  loaf  feed  a  thousand  men,  the 
occurrence  of  the  fact  does  not  prove  that  an  Almighty 
Being  has  suspended  the  laws  of  Nature.  If  such  a  phe- 
nomenon is  contrary  to  the  laws  of  Nature,  then  a  proof 
that  the  events  had  occurred  would  establish  the  inference. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  must  always  be  simpler  to  be- 
lieve that  the  evidence  is  mistaken  ; /<?r  such  a  belief  is 
obviously  consistent  with  a  belief  in  the  uniformity  of  NaturCy 
which  is  the  sole  gtiarantee  {whatever  its  origiii)  of  our  rea- 
soning. Really  to  evade  Hume's  reasoning  is  thus  im- 
possible,' &c.^ 

From  the  sentence  in  this  extract  which  I  have  put  in 
italics,  it  would  appear  that  Mr.  Stephen  holds,  and  thinks 
that  Hume  implicitly  held,  the  doctrine  that  a  belief  in 
occasional  Divine  interference  is  inconsistent  with  that  be- 
lief in  the  uniformity  of  Nature  which  is  *  the  sole  guarantee 
of  our  reasoning.'  I  doubt  whether  this  was  Hume's 
opinion  ;  in  any  case  it  is  incorrect. 

*  'English  Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,'  p.  341. 


330        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

The  scientific  belief  which,  with  least  impropriety,  may- 
be termed  the  '  sole  guarantee '  of  our  reasoning,  is  that 
belief  in  the  uniformity  of  Nature  which  is  equivalent  to 
a  belief  in  the  law  of  universal  causation  ;  which  again  is 
equivalent  to  a  belief  that  similar  antecedents  are  always 
followed  by  similar  consequents.  But  this  belief,  as  the 
least  reflection  will  convince  the  reader,  is  in  no  way  in- 
consistent with  a  belief  in  supernatural  interference. 

A  belief  in  the  uniformity  of  Nature,  which  is  equi- 
valent to  a  belief  that  natural  efl"ects  are  uniformly  pre- 
ceded by  natural  causes,  no  doubt  is  inconsistent  with 
supernatural  interference  ;  but  of  what  pieces  of  reasoning 
it  is  our  sole  guarantee,  except  those  directed  to  show  that 
in  any  given  case  the  hypothesis  of  supernatural  interfer- 
ence must  be  rejected,  I  am  not  able  to  say. 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  the  most  important  discrepancy 
which  has  been,  or  could  be,  alleged  to  exist  between 
Science  and  Religion  has  no  real  existence.  The  only 
great  general  principle  on  which  scientific  philosophers 
have  as  yet  been  able  to  rest  their  scientific  creed  is  un- 
touched. Let  us  therefore  now  turn  our  attention  to  the 
more  special  and  derivative  doctrines  of  Science,  and  con- 
sider how  far  they  are  affected  by  a  belief  in  supernatural 
interference. 

In  this  enquiry  it  will  be  convenient  to  keep  in  mind  a 
distinction  drawn  in  the  fourth  chapter  of  this  essay,  be- 
tween what  were  there  called  the  abstract  and  the  concrete 
parts  of  Science.  By  the  abstract  parts  of  Science  were 
meant  the  general  laws  by  which  phenomena  are  con- 
nected ;  by  the  concrete  parts  were  meant  (what  may  be 
sufficiently  described  as)  particular  matters  of  fact. 

Does,  then.  Theology  require  us  to  modify  in  any  way 
our   beliefs    concerning  the  abstract  part  of  Science  t     I 


RELIGION   AND   SCIENCE.  331 

apprehend  that  it  does  not.  Such  beliefs  are  in  themselves 
as  true  and  as  fully  proved  if  supernatural  interference  be 
possible  as  they  are  if  such  interference  be  impossible. 
A  law  does  not  do  more  than  state  that  under  certain 
circumstances  (positive  and  negative)  certain  phenomena 
will  occur.  If  on  some  occasions  these  £kcumstances,_W%!i/"  ^ 
owing  to  supernatural  interference,  do  not  occur,  the  fact''iv>^^'^?»^*>^ 
that  the  phenomena  do  not  follow  proves  nothing  as  to 
the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  law.  If  we  believe  that 
oxygen  and  hydrogen  will  combine  under  given  conditions 
to  produce  water,  we  believe  so  none  the  less  because  we 
happen  also  to  believe  that  some  Supernatural  Power  may 
interpose,  or  has  on  certain  occasions  interposed,  to  prevent 
that  result.  I  need  not  further  insist  on  this  point,  which 
is  obvious  enough  in  itself,  and  on  which  I  believe  I  am  in 
agreement  with  Mr.  Mill  and  others  who  are  not  commonly 
suspected  of  a  theological  bias. 

There  remains  then  the  concrete  part  of  Science :  the 
matters  of  fact  which  compose  history  in  its  widest  sense, 
or  which  belong!^  to  that  fraction  of  the  future  which 
Science  can  pretend  to  foresee.  Now  with  regard  to  the 
former  of  these  the  question  is  complicated  by  a  considera- 
tion which  does  not  affect  us  when  we  are  dealing  with 
other  portions  of  the  scientific  system —  by  the  consideration, 
namely,  that  it  is  a  matter  of  controversy  what,  in  certain 
very  pertinent  particulars,  the  scientific  version  of  history 
really  is.  For  the  Theologians  usually  maintain  that  the 
kind  of  scientific  inference  which  I  call  Historical,  compels  a 
belief  in  the  intervention  on  certain  occasions  of  supernatural 
causes :  a  great  part  of  what  are  commonly  called  Chris- 
tian evidences  being  indeed  nothing  more  than  a  detailed 
attempt  to  prove  this  thesis,  just  as  most  of  the  direct 
attacks  on  Christianity  are  attempts  to  prove  the  precise 


332        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

opposite.  Now,  if  the  Theologians  are  right  in  their 
opinions  on  this  point,  there  can  be  no  discrepancy  whatever 
between  ReHgion  and  Science  as  regards  matters  of  fact, 
because  it  is  Science  itself  which  compels  us  to  accept  the 
account  of  miracles  in  which  Religion  teaches  us  to  believe. 
Before,  therefore,  discussing  the  nature  and  magnitude  of 
the  discrepancy  which  is  supposed  to  exist  between  them, 
it  would  seem  necessary  to  enter  fully  into  all  the  disputes 
respecting  the  authenticity  of  documents,  the  credibility  of 
witnesses,  the  interpretation  of  texts,  the  growth  of  myths, 
the  natural  history  of  religions,  the  abstract  question  as  to 
the  possibility  of  inferring  supernatural  facts  from  natural 
data,  and,  in  short,  all  the  topics  which  supply  theological 
and  anti-theological  writers  with  so  much  material  for 
discussion.  Such  a  task  is  of  course  impossible.  But  it 
may  be  worth  while  to  note  the  conclusions  that  would 
have  to  be  faced  if  on  all  these  disputed  questions  the 
Theologians  are  wrong  and  the  Anti-theologians  are  right ; 
if  known  natural  causes  are  able  in  all  cases,  without  strain- 
ing, to  account  for  the  historical  facts  which  both  sides 
allow  to  have  occurred,  and  if,  either  for  this,  or  for  some 
more  abstract  reason,  only  natural  causes  can  rationally  be 
admitted  to  have  been  in  operation.  On  such  a  hypothesis 
theological  beliefs  would,  without  doubt,  modify  opinions 
framed  out  of  purely  scientific  materials,  though  the  modi- 
fication may  easily  be  exaggerated.  Regarded  in  their  re* 
lation  to  us  as  men,  the  facts  which  Theology  asserts  to 
have  happened  are  unquestionably  of  transcendent  import- 
ance. Regarded  in  their  relation  to  Science,  this  can 
hardly  be  maintained.  As  phenqmena^  the  few  events 
which  are  said  to  have  occurred  in  Palestine  and  elsewhere 
of  a  supernatural  character  are  scarcely  worth  noting.  Be- 
ing supernatural,  they  furnish  no  grounds  either  for  be- 


RELIGION   AND   SCIENCE.  333 

lieving  in  any  new  law  of  Nature  or  for  disbelieving  any 
which  we  had  before  supposed  to  be  established  ;  and 
being  few,  they  are  lost  in  the  mass  of  facts  which  have 
succeeded  each  other  since  the  earth  came  into  being.  '  Is 
the  supernatural  creation  of  the  world,  then,  nothing  ? '  the 
reader  may  be  tempted  to  exclaim.  I  have  always  under- 
stood ^  that  this  is  a  subject  on  which  men  of  science  pro- 
fessed to  be  altogether  out  of  their  sphere.  *  What,  then, 
do  you  say  about  a  belief  in  Providence,  and  in  the  possible 
interference  of  Supernatural  Power  in  answer  to  prayer .? ' 
These,  again,  are  not  convictions  which  require  us  to 
modify  our  adherence  to  known  laws.  They  may  cast, 
indeed,  an  additional  shade  of  doubt  over  our  expectation 
of  the  events  which  are  to  occur  in  the  future,  as  well  as 
over  the  explanation  of  the  events  which  have "  occurred  in 
the  past ;  and  if  our  actual  scientific  inferences  were  (as  I 
have  shown  in  the  fourth  chapter  that  they  are  not)  of  a 
satisfactory  character  on  these  points,  this  might  prove  a 
matter  of  some,  though  not,  I  think,  of  very  great  import- 
ance. As  it  is,  however,  the  Supernatural  Power  is  only 
one  of  an  indefinite  number  of  known  and  unknown  natural 
powers,  which  we  never  have  seen,  and  perhaps  can  never 
hope  to  see,  reduced  to  law,  and  which  even  if  we  leave 
miraculous  interference  out  of  account  would  suflfice  to 
make  demonstrative  prophecy  or  retrospection  an  absolute 
impossibility. 

It  would  appear  then  that  the  discrepancy  between 
Religion  and  Science  which  vanishes  altogether  if  we  take 

^  If  the  literal  interpretation  of  the  Mosaic  account  of  the  creation 
is  to  be  accepted  as  an  essential  part  of  religion,  no  doubt  the  discre- 
pancy between  Religion  and  Science  will  be  greater  than  that  stated 
in  the  text.  I  have,  however,  assumed  (in  accordance  with  what  I 
understand  to  be  the  opinion  of  theological  experts)  that  this  is  not 
the  case. 


334        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT. 

the  hypothesis  most  favourable  to  the  Theologians  is 
comparatively  insignificant  in  its  amount  even  on  the 
hypothesis  most  favourable  to  the  Freethinkers  :  and 
if  many  writers  who  certainly  know  a  great  deal  about 
Science,  and  may  be  supposed  to  know  something  about 
Theology,  are  of  an  altogether  different  opinion,  this  may, 
I  apprehend,  be  attributed  to  the  fact  that  they  approach 
the  question  with  their  minds  completely  saturated  with  a 
theory  of  the  logical  relation  which  Ought  to  subsist 
between  Religion  and  Science,  according  to  which  the 
grounds,  if  any,  for  believing  the  first,  are  to  be  found,  if 
anywhere,  among  the  doctrines  of  the  second.  It  is  not  hard 
to  see  that  on  any  presupposition  of  this  sort  (combined 
as  it  is  with  the  assumption  that  Science  is  philosophically 
established),  the  smallest  want  of  harmony  between  the  two 
systems  may,  or  rather  must,  lead  to  the  most  important 
consequences  :  since  the  mere  discovery  that  they  are  not 
rationally  connected  would  remove  all  ground  for  accept- 
ing the  dependent  creed  ;  while  the  least  appearance  of 
contradiction  would  supply  a  positive  ground  for  rejecting 
it.  As,  however,  I  have  in  the  preceding  chapter  suffi- 
ciently expressed  my  dissent  from  this  view,  it  is  not 
necessary  that  I  should  here  any  further  allude  to  it.  I 
merely  desired  to  point  out  the  principal  reason  which  I 
believe  exists  for  the  great  exaggeration  which  is  occa- 
sionally to  be  observed  in  the  estimate  of  the  importance 
of  the  contradiction  between  current  Religion  and  current 
Science  put  forward  by  thinkers  of  reputation. 


APP.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  335 


APPENDIX. 


ON  THE  IDEA    OF  A  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS. 

In  this  Appendix  I  propose  to  extend  and  apply  the 
remarks  on  the  Idea  of  a  Philosophy  in  general  contained 
in  the  first  chapter  of  the  Essay,  to  the  Philosophy  of 
Ethics  in  particular.  But,  in  order  to  do  so,  it  is  necessary, 
in  the  first  place,  to  correct  an  error  which,  in  these  days 
when  Science  and  the  Knowable  are  supposed  to  be  co-ex- 
tensive, is  natural  though  not  the  less  mischievous  : — the 
error  I  mean  by  which  Ethics  is  degraded  to  a  mere  section 
or  department  of  Science.  At  first  sight,  and  from  some 
points  of  view,  the  opinion  seems  plausible  enough.  That 
mankind  have  passed  through  many  ethical  phases  (for 
example)  is  a  fact  in  history,  and  history  belongs  to  science  : 
that  I  hold  certain  moral  laws  to  be  binding  is  a  fact  of  my 
mental  being ;  and,  like  all  other  such  facts,  is  dealt  with 
by  Psychology, — also  a  branch  of  science.  Physiology, 
Ethnology,  and  other  sciences  all  have  something  to  say 
concerning  the  origin  and  development  of  moral  ideas  in 
the  individual  and  in  the  race  ;  it  is  not  unnatural,  there- 
fore, that  some  men  of  science,  impressed  by  these  facts, 
have  claimed,  or  seemed  to  claim,  Ethics  for  their  own. 

To  hold  such  a  view  would  be  a  most  unfortunate  error  ; 
not  to  hold  clearly  and  definitely  its  contrary  may  lead  to 
much  confusion  ;  for  though,  as  will  appear,  scientific  laws 
form  necessary  steps  in  the  deduction  of  subordinate  ethi- 


336      A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.         [app, 

cal  laws,  and  though  the  two  provinces  of  knowledge  cannot 
with  advantage  be  separated  in  practice,  still  the  truth 
remains  that  scientific  judgments  and  ethical  judgments 
deal  with  essentially  different  subject-matters. 

Every  scientific  proposition  asserts  either  the  nature 
of  the  relation  of  space  or  time  between  phenomena  which 
have  existed,  do  exist,  or  will  exist ;  or  defines  the  relations 
of  space  or  time  which  would  exist  if  certain  changes  and 
simplifications  were  made  in  the  phenomena  (as  in  ideal 
geometry),  or  in  the  law  governing  the  phenomena  (as  in 
ideal  physics).  Roughly  speaking,  it  may  be  said  to  state 
facts  or  events,  real  or  hypothetical. 

An  ethical  proposition,  on  the  other  hand,  though,  like 
every  other  proposition,  it  states  a  relation,  does  not  state  a 
relation  of  space  or  time.  *  I  ought  to  speak  the  truth,'  for 
instance,  does  not  imply  that  I  have  spoken,  do  speak,  or 
shall  speak  the  truth  ;  it  asserts  no  bond  of  causation  be- 
tween subject  and  predicate,  nor  any  co-existence  nor  any 
sequence.  It  does  not  announce  an  event  ;  and  if  some 
people  would  say  that  it  stated  a  fact,  it  is  not  certainly  a 
fact  either  of  the  *  external '  or  of  the  ^  internal '  world. 

One  cause,  perhaps,  of  the  constant  confusion  between 
Ethics  and  Science  is  the  tendency  there  appears  to  be  to 
regard  the  psychology  of  the  individual  holding  the  moral 
law  as  the  subject-matter  of  Ethics,  rather  than  the  moral 
law  itself ;  to  investigate  the  position  which  the  belief  in  such 
a  proposition  as  '  I  ought  to  speak  the  truth '  holds  in  the 
history  of  the  race  and  of  the  individual,  its  causes  and  its 
accompaniments,  rather  than  its  truth  or  its  evidence  ;  to 
substitute,  in  short,  Psychology  or  Anthropology  for  Ethics. 
The  danger  of  such  confusion  will  partly  be  shown  by  the 
few  remarks  which,  in  order  to  carry  out  the  train  of 
thought  begun  in  the  first  chapter,  I  have  to  make  on  the 


APP  ]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  337 

Idea  of  a  Philosophy  of  Ethics  :  that  is,  on  the  form  which 
any  satisfactory  system  of  Ethics  must  assume^  or  be  able  to 
assume,  whatever  be  its  contents. 

The  obvious  truth  that  all  knowledge  is  either  certain  in 
itself,  or  is  derived  by  legitimate  methods  from  that  which 
is  so,  has  been  already,  perhaps,  more  than  sufficiently 
insisted  on  ;  and  this,  which  is  true  of  knowledge  in  gene- 
ral, is  of  course  also  true  of  ethical  knowledge  in  particular. 
A  little  consideration  will  enable  us  to  go  on,  and  state  this 
further  fact,  which  is  peculiar  to  Ethics.  The  general  pro- 
positions which  really  lie  at  the  root  of  any  ethical  system 
must  themselves  be  ethical,  and  can  never  be  either  scientific 
or  metaphysical.  In  other  words,  if  a  proposition  announc- 
ing obligation  require  proof  at  all,  one  term  of  that  proof 
must  always  be  a  proposition  announcing  obligation,  which 
itself  requires  no  proof  This  truth  must  not  be  confounded 
with  that  which  I  have  just  dwelt  upon,  namely,  that 
Science  and  Ethics  have  essentially  different  subject-matters. 
This  might  be  so,  and  yet  Ethics  might  be  indebted  for  all 
its  first  principles  to  Science. 

A  concrete  case  will  perhaps  make  clearer  this  axiom 
of  ethical  philosophy.  A  man  (let  us  say)  is  not  satisfied 
that  he  ought  to  speak  the  truth.  He  demands  a  reason, 
and  is  told  that  truth-telling  conduces  to  the  welfare  of 
society.  He  accepts  this  ground,  and  apparently,  there- 
fore, rests  his  ethics  on  what  is  a  purely  scientific  assertion. 
But  this  is  not  in  reality  the  fact.  There  is  a  suppressed 
premiss  required  to  justify  his  conclusion,  which  would  run 
somewhat  in  this  way, — '  I  ought  to  do  that  which  conduces 
to  the  welfare  of  society.'  And  this  proposition,  of  course, 
is  ethical.  This  example  is  not  merely  an  illustration,  it 
is  a  typical  case.  There  is  no  artifice  by  which  an  ethical 
statement  can  be  evolved  from  a  scientific  or  metaphysical 

Z 


338        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [app. 

proposition,  or  any  combination  of  such  ;  and  whenever  the 
reverse  appears  to  be  the  fact,  it  will  always  be  found  that 
the  assertion,  which  seems  to  be  the  basis  of  the  ethical 
superstructure,  is  in  reality  merely  the  'minor'  of  a  syllo- 
gism, of  which  the  major  is  the  desired  ethical  principle. 

If  this  principle  be  as  true  as  it  seems  to  me  to  be  ob- 
vious, it  at  once  alters  our  attitude  towards  a  vast  mass  of 
controversy  which  has  encumbered  the '  progress  of  moral 
philosophy.  So  far  as  the  proof  of  a  basis  of  morals  is 
concerned  it  makes  irrelevant  all  discussion  on  the  origin  of 
moral  ideas,  or  on  the  nature  of  moral  sentiments  ;  and  it 
relegates  to  their  proper  sphere  in  Psychology  or  Anthro- 
pology all  discussion  on  such  subjects  as  association  of 
ideas,  inherited  instincts,  and  evolution,  in  so  far,  at  least, 
as  these  are  supposed  to  refer  to  tiltimate  moral  laws.  For 
it  is  an  obvious  corollary  from  our  principle,  that  the  origin 
of  an  ultimate  ethical  belief  never  can  supply  a  reason  for 
believing  it ;  since  the  origin  of  this  belief,  as  of  any  other 
mental  phenomenon,  is  a  matter  to  be  dealt  with  by  Science  ; 
and  my  thesis  is,  that  (negatively  speaking)  scientific  truth 
alone  cannot  serve  as  a  foundation  for  a  moral  system  ;  or 
(to  put  it  positively),  if  we  have  a  moral  system  at  all,  there 
must  be  contained  in  it,  explicitly  or  implicitly,  at  least 
one  ethical  proposition,  of  which  no  proof  can  be  given  or 
required. 

In  one  sense,  therefore,  all  Ethics  is  '  a  priori'  It  is  not, 
and  never  can  be,  founded  on  experience.  Whether  we  be 
Utilitarians,  or  Egoists,  or  Intuitionists,  by  whatever  name 
we  call  ourselves,  the  rational  basis  of  our  system  must  be 
something  other  than  an  experience  or  a  series  of  experi- 
ences ;  for  such  always  belong  to  Science. 

Limited  indeed  is  the  number  of  English  Moralists  who 
have  invariably  kept  this  in  view.     However  foreign  it  may 


App.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  339 

be  to  their  various  systems,  an  enquiry  into  origin  or  into 
the  universality  of  moral  ideas  always  appears  to  slip  in — 
not  in  its  proper  place,  as  an  interesting  psychological 
adjunct,  but — as  having  an  important  bearing  on  the 
authority  of  their  particular  principle.  And  the  necessary 
result,  of  course,  of  these  efforts  to  support  ultimate  princi- 
ples is,  that  they  cease  to  be  ultimate,  and  become  not  only 
subordinate,  but  subordinate  to  judgments  which,  if  expli- 
citly stated,  would  very  likely  appear  far  less  obvious 
than  they. 

There  is  a  whole  school  of  Moralists,  for  example,  who 
find  or  invent  a  special  faculty,  intellectual  or  sensitive,  by 
which  moral  truth  is   arrived  at ;  who  would  regard  it  as  a 
serious  blow  to   morality  if  the   process   by  which   ethical 
beliefs  were  produced  was  found  to  be  common  to  many 
other   regions  of  thought.     Oddly  enough,  these  are  the 
very  people  whose   systems    are  often    called  '  a  priori' 
Now  if  by  this  term  be  meant  that  the  ordinary  maxims  of 
morality  are  (according  to  these  systems)  independent  of 
experience,  it  is  appropriate  enough  ;  but  if  it  be  meant 
that  they  are  self-evident,  it  is  a  singular  misnomer.     For 
it  is  clear  that  on  their  systems  rigidly  interpreted  those 
maxims  derive  their  evidence,  not  from  their  own  internal 
authority,  but  from  the  fact  that  they  bear  a  certain  special 
relation   to  our  mental   constitution  ;  so  that  the  ethical 
proposition  which  really  lies  at  the  root  of  their  ethics  is 
something  of  this  sort  : — '  We  ought  to  obey  all   laws  the 
validity  of  which  is  recognised  by  a  special  innate  faculty, 
whether  called  Conscience  or  otherwise.'     Now,  I   do  not 
deny  that  from  a  philosophical  point  of  view  such  proposi- 
tions as  these  are  possible  foundations  of  morals  ;  but  what 
I  desire  to  point  out  is  that  such  a  phrase  (to  take  a  con- 
crete case)  as  '  I  ought  to  speak   the  truth    because  con- 

z  2 


340        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [app. 

science  commands  it,'  may  have  two  widely  different  mean- 
ings, and  may  belong  to  two  different  systems  of  Ethics, 
not  commonly  distinguished.  According  to  the  first  and 
most  accurate  meaning,  '  I  ought  to  speak  the  truth  '  is  an 
inference,  of  which  the  major  premiss  must  be,  '  I  ought  to 
do  what  conscience  commands,'  and  being  an  inference, 
cannot  obviously  be  an  d  priori  law.  According  to  the  second 
and  inaccurate  meaning,  *  I  ought  to  speak  the  truth '  is  in 
reality  received  on  its  own  merits,  and  conscience  is  very 
unnecessarily  brought  in,  either  to  add  dignity  to  the  law, 
or  to  account  for  its  general  acceptance  among  mankind, 
or  for  some  other  extra-ethical  reason.  The  first  of  these 
views  is  open  to  no  criticism  from  the  point  of  view  of 
ethical  philosophy  ;  so  far  as  form  is  concerned  it  is  un- 
assailable. But  I  greatly  suspect  that  most  people  who 
nominally  found  their  morality  on  conscience  really  hold 
the  second  theory  ;  and  in  that  case,  as  I  think,  their  state- 
ment is  misleading,  if  not  erroneous. 

So  far  I  have  only  given  a  negative  description  of  the 
nature  of  an  ethical  proposition.  I  have  said,  indeed,  that 
it  announces  obligation,  but  this  statement  is  tautological  ; 
for  if  we  knew  in  what  obligation  consisted  there  would  be 
no  difficulty  in  stating  the  meaning  of  ethical.  Beyond 
this  I  have  only  said  that  an  ethical  judgment  deals  with 
an  essentially  different  subject-matter  from  either  Science 
or  Metaphysics.  Is  it  possible  to  say  more  than  this  1  Is 
it  possible  to  give  any  description  of  ethical  propositions 
which  shall  add  to  our  knowledge  of  their  character  }  On 
general  grounds  it  is  plain  that  this  can  only  be  done, 
supposing  that  what  are  commonly  called  ethical  propositions 
form  part  of  a  larger  class  of  judgments  which  resemble 
them  in  being  neither  scientific  nor  metaphysical,  but  differ 
from  them  in  some  other  respect.     I   myself  hold  this  to 


APR]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  341 

be  the  case.  I  hold  not  only  that  the  judgments  com- 
monly called  ethical  (but  which,  in  spite  of  the  clumsiness 
attendant  on  changing  the  meaning  of  a  word  in  the  middle 
of  a  discussion,  I  shall  henceforward  call  moral)  have  the 
two  negative  characteristics  above  mentioned  in  common 
with  a  larger  class  of  judgments  ;  but  that  the  distinction 
between  the  two  classes  should  be  ignored  by  ethical 
philosophy,  since  it  depends  not  on  *  form '  but  on  '■  matter.' 
All  judgments  belonging  to  either  of  these  classes  I  shall 
henceforth  call  ethical.  Those  commonly  called  ethical  I 
shall  describe  as  moral ;  the  rest  are  either  non-moral  or 
immoral.  Every  possible  judgment,  then,  is  either  ethical 
or  non-ethical ;  and  every  ethical  judgment  is  either  moral 
or  non-moral  or  immoral.  The  terminology  thus  being 
defined,  let  me  explain  it,  and  at  the  same  time  my  view 
on  the  subject. 

If  a  man  contemplates  any  action  as  one  which  he 
chooses  to  perform,  he  must  do  so  either  because  he 
regards  the  action  as  one  which  he  chooses  for  itself,  or 
because  he  expects  to  obtain  by  it  some  object  which  he 
chooses  for  itself.  And  similarly,  if  he  contemplates  any 
object  as  one  he  chooses  to  obtain,  he  must  do  so  either 
because  he  regards  that  object  as  chosen  for  itself,  or 
because  it  may  be  a  means  to  one  that  is.  In  other  words, 
deliberate  action  is  always  directed  mediately  or  imme- 
diately to  something  which  is  chosen  for  itself  alone  ;  which 
something  may  either  be  itself  an  action,  or  what  I  loosely 
term  an  object.  Including  both,  then,  under  the  term 
'end,'  I  define  an  ethical  proposition  thus: — An  ethical 
proposition  is  one  which  prescribes  an  action  zvith  reference  to 
an  end.  Nobody  will  deny  that  this  definition  is  true  of  all 
moral  propositions  (most  people,  indeed,  will  think  that  it 
is  too  obvious  to  need  stating) ;  but  they  will  probably  say. 


342         A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [app. 

and  say  truly,  that  it  is  also  true  of  a  great  many  propo- 
sitions which  are  not  usually  called  moral.  Now  my  object 
is  to  show  that  the  distinction  between  what  are  usually 
called  moral  propositions  and  that  larger  class  which  I 
have  defined  above,  has  no  philosophic  import,  has  nothing 
that  is  to  do  with  the  grounds  of  obligation.  And  for  this 
purpose,  let  me  analyse  more  carefully  this  larger  class 
(which  I  call  ethical)  from  a  philosophic  point  of  view,  that 
is,  with  reference  to  the  rational  foundation  and  connection 
of  its  parts. 

(i)  Every  proposition  prescribing  an  action  with  refer- 
ence to  an  end,  belongs  either  explicitly  or  implicitly  to  a 
system  of  such  propositions.  (2)  The  fundamental  propo- 
sition of  every  such  system  states  an  end,  which  the  person 
who  receives  that  system  regards  as  final — as  chosen  for 
itself  alone.  (3)  The  subordinate  propositions  of  that 
system  are  deduced  from  the  fundamental  proposition  by 
means  of  scientific  or  theological  minor  premises.  {4) 
When  two  such  systems  conflict,  their  rival  claim  can  only 
be  decided  by  a  judgment  or  proposition  not  contained  in 
either  of  them,  which  shall  assert  which  of  these  respective 
fundamental  *  ends '  shall  have  precedence.  [Ethics,  then, 
rests  on  two  sorts  of  judgments,  neither  of  which  can  be 
deduced  from  the  other,  and  of  neither  of  which  can  any 
proof  be  given  or  required.  The  first  sort  declares  an  end 
to  be  final,  the  second  declares  which  of  two  final  ends  is 
to  be  preferred,  if  they  are  incompatible.  This  second 
sort,  of  course,  is  not  essential  to  an  ethical  system,  but 
can  only  be  required  when  an  individual  regards  more  than 
one  end  as  final.]  (5)  No  other  sort  of  proposition  can 
possibly  lie  at  the  root  of  an  ethical  system.  [This  is 
merely  a  restatement  of  the  law  dwelt  on  at  the  beginning 
of  this  discussion.] 


APP.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  343 

Now  in  so  far  as  this  is  a  complete  philosophical  dia- 
gram of  every  ethical  system,  it  must  show  the  sort  of 
authority  on  which  every  ethical  proposition — every  impera- 
tive— must  rest.  Yet  since  it  is  plain  that  this  diagram  takes 
no  account  of  the  differences  there  may  be  between  moral 
and  immoral  ethical  systems,  how  (it  may  be  asked)  can  we 
account  for  the  wide-spread  delusion,  that  these  differences 
affect  the  authority  of  the  former  }  This  question  takes  us 
far  afield  into  the  regions  of  Psychology  and  Anthropology, 
but  the  answer  to  it  may  perhaps  be  suggested  as  follows. 
The  main  reason  for  this  error  appears  to  be,  false  analogy, 
unchecked  by  any  clear  apprehension  of  the  nature  of  the 
rational  or  philosophical  peculiarities  of  an  ethical  system. 
And  in  order  to  illustrate  this,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
place  the  theory  I  am  defending  under  as  strong  a  light  as 
possible,  it  may  be  as  well  to  examine  the  exact  bearing 
which  '  Universality '  and  the  approval  of  *  Conscience ' 
(two  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  moral  as  opposed  to  non- 
moral  or  immoral  systems)  have  on  obligation. 

My  position,  of  course,  is  that  they  have  no  bearing — 
and  in  order  to  show  this  I  offer  the  following  analysis  to 
the  reader — taking  Universality  first.  A  law  may  be  said 
to  be  Universal  in  one  of  four  senses.  It  may  mean  (first) 
that  all  intelligences  regard  themselves  as  bound  by  it. 
This  meaning  we  need  not  further  consider,  not  only 
because  it  is  a  scientific  assertion,  and  therefore,  as  I  have 
shown,  incapable  of  becoming  the  foundation  of  an  ethical 
system,  but  also  because  it  is  a  scientific  assertion  now 
entirely  discredited.  It  is  quite  out  of  fashion  to  maintain 
that  Morality  is  the  same  in  every  race  and  every  country, 
and  therefore  till,  in  the  revolutions  of  thought,  some  one 
is  found  to  re-assert  this  doctrine,  we  need  not  further 
discuss  it. 


344        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [app. 

The  second  possible  meaning  is,  that  by  a  universal 
moral  law  we  mean  one  by  which  all  intelligences  ought 
to  regard  themselves  as  bound.  This  also  we  may  dismiss 
because  it  amounts  to  saying  that  there  is  a  moral  law 
which  obliges  all  intelligences  to  be  bound  by  other  moral 
laws.  Is  then  that  moral  law  Universal  in  the  sejtse  we  are 
discussing?  If  it  is,  we  are  committed  to  an  infinite  series 
of  moral  laws,  each  commanding  us  to  be  bound  by  the 
preceding  one.  If  it  is  not,  then  there  can  be  a  moral 
law  which  (in  this  sense)  is  not  universal. 

In  the  third  place,  by  a  universal  moral  law  we  may  mean 
one  which  we  think  all  men  ought  to  obey.  That  we  do 
think  this  of  most  moral  laws,  and  that  we  do  not  think  it 
of  the  other  ethical  laws,  namely,  the  non-moral  and  the 
immoral  ones,  is  tolerably  certain.  It  remains  to  enquire 
whether  the  difference  bears  on  obligation  ;  and  this  enquiry, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  may  be  settled  by  a  very  simple  con- 
sideration. All  intelligences  means  Me  and  all  other  in- 
telligences. The  first  of  these  constituent  parts  would  be 
bound  by  a  law  held  by  Me  whether  it  were  universal  (in 
this  sense)  or  not.  The  second  would  not  be  bound  by  a 
law  held  by  Me  whether  it  were  universal  in  this  sense  or 
not.  In  other  words,  to  be  bound  by  a  moral  law  (and 
this,  by  the  way,  brings  out  very  clearly  the  difference 
between  being  ethically  bound  and  legally  bound)  is 
exactly  the  same  thing  as  to  regard  it  as  binding  on  you  ; 
it  is  not  to  regard  it  as  binding  on  someone  else  ;  and  it  is 
not  for  someone  else  to  regard  it  as  binding  on  you  ;  it  has 
therefore,  and  it  can  have,  no  connection  with  Universality 
in  this  third  sense. 

It  is,  of  course,  open  to  anyone  to  assert  that  he  recog- 
nises no  imperative  which  is  not  universal  (in  this  sense). 
This  may  very  well  be  the  fact,  and  I  have  no  wish  to  deny 


\ 


APP.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  345 

it.  What  I  deny  is,  that  the  connection  between  the  two  is 
other  than  empirical  and  accidental,  or  that  it  has  any- 
place in  the  philosophy  of  obligation. 

The  fourth  and  last  meaning  which  I  am  able  to  attach 
to  the  word  Universal,  when  used  of  a  law,  is  that  it 
signifies  that  all  people  of  'well-constituted  minds'  do, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  regard  themselves  as  bound  by  a  law 
so  qualified.  Now,  if  '  well-constituted '  is  defined  with 
reference  to  morality,  and  means  'holding  the  one  true 
moral  system,'  a  proposition  that  all  true  or  right  moral 
laws  are  universal,  is  frivolous  and  merely  verbal.  If  it  be 
defined  with  reference  to  something  else — if  it  means,  for 
instance,  sane,  or  well-educated,  or  Christian,  or  scientific, 
or  anything  non-moral,  then  the  same  arguments  may  be 
used  to  show  that  universality  in  this  sense  cannot  be  a 
ground  of  obligation,  as  I  used  when  speaking  of  the  first 
sense.  For  a  proposition  asserting  that  any  considerable 
body  of  men,  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  mankind  by 
some  non-moral  attribute,  hold  the  same  moral  code,  is 
very  likely  to  be  questionable,  and  being  a  scientific  asser- 
tion, is  quite  certain  to  be  irrelevant. 

So  much,  then,  for  Universality.  As  regards  Con- 
science, I  have  shown  before,  that  to  assume  a  special 
faculty  which  is  to  announce  ultimate  moral  laws  can 
add  nothing  to  their  validity,  nor  will  it  do  so  the  more 
if  we  suppose  its  authority  supported  by  such  sanctions 
as  remorse  or  self-approval.  Conscience  regarded  in 
this  way  is  not  ethically  to  be  distinguished  from  any 
external  authority,  as,  for  instance,  the  Deity,  or  the 
laws  of  the  land.  Now,  it  is  plain  that  no  external 
authority  can  give  validity  to  ultimate  moral  laws,  for  the 
question  immediately  arises,  why  should  we  obey  that 
authority  ?     Only  two  reasons  can  be  given.     The  first  is, 


346        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [app. 

that  it  is  right  in  itself  to  obey;  the  second  is,  that  (through 
a  proper  use  of  sanctions)  it  will  be  for  our  happiness  to 
obey.  Now,  the  first  of  these  is  a  moral  law,  which  ob- 
viously does  not  derive  its  validity  from  the  external 
authority,  because  the  external  authority  is  an  authority 
only  by  means  of  it.  And  the  same  may  be  said  of  the 
second  reason,  substituting  the  words  'ethical  but  non- 
moral  '  for  the  word  '  moral.'  In  neither  case,  then,  is  the 
external  authority  the  ultimate  ground  of  obligation. 

The  inevitable  ambiguity  which  arises  from  the  sudden 
extension  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  '  ethical  '  to  impera- 
tives which  are  immoral  or  non-moral,  makes  it,  perhaps, 
desirable  that  I  should  very  concisely  re-state,  from  another 
point  of  view,  the  main  position  I  have  been  attempting  to 
establish. 

All  imperatives,  all  propositions  prescribing  actions, 
have  this  in  common  : — That  if  they  are  to  have  any 
cogency,  or  are  to  be  anything  but  empty  sound,  the 
actions  they  prescribe  must  be  to  the  individual  by  whom 
they  are  regarded  as  binding,  either  mediately  or  imme- 
diately desirable.  They  must  conduce,  directly  or  in- 
directly, to  something  which  he  regards  as  of  worth  for 
itself  alone.  The  number  of  things  which  are  thus  in 
themselves  desirable  or  of  worth  to  somebody  or  other  is, 
of  course,  very  great.  Pleasure  or  happiness  in  the  abstract, 
other  people's  pleasure  or  happiness,  money  (irrespective  of 
its  power  of  giving  pleasure),  power,  the  love  of  God, 
revenge,  are  some  of  the  commonest  of  them,  and  every 
one  of  these  is  regarded  by  some  person  or  other  as  an  end 
to  be  attained  for  its  own  sake,  and  not  as  a  means  to 
something  else.  Now,  it  is  evident  that  to  every  one  of 
the  ultimate  propositions  prescribing  these  ends,  and  for 
which,  as  the  ends  are  ends-in-themselves,  no  further  reason 


APP.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  347 

can  be  given,  there  will  belong  a  system  of  dependent 
propositions,  the  reasons  for  which  are  that  the  actions 
they  prescribe  conduce  to  the  ultimate  end  or  end-in-itself. 
If,  for  instance,  revenge  against  a  particular  individual 
is  for  me  an  end-in-itself,  a  proposition  which  prescribes 
shooting  him  from  behind  a  hedge  may  be  one  of  the  sub- 
ordinate or  dependent  propositions  belonging  to  that 
particular  system.  But  whereas  the  indefinite  number  of 
such  systems  is  thus  characterised  by  a  common  form,  it 
is  divided  by  ordinary  usage  into  three  classes,  the  moral, 
the  non-moral,  and  the  immoral,  about  the  ^^motation  of 
which  there  is  a  tolerable  agreement.  It  would  be 
universally  admitted,  for  instance,  that  a  system  founded  on 
the  happiness  of  others  was  a  moral  system,  while  one 
founded  on  revenge  was  immoral  :  and,  though  there 
would  be  more  dispute  as  to  the  members  of  the  non-moral 
class,  this  is  not  a  question  on  which  I  need  detain  the 
reader.  The  denotation  then  of  these  names  being 
presumably  fixed,  what  is  the  connotation  .''  or  to  limit  the 
enquiry,  what  is  the  connotation  of  a  moral  system  1  The 
apparent  answers  are  as  numerous  as  the  number  of  schools 
of  Moralists.  But  however  numerous  they  may  be,  they 
can  all  be  divided  into  two  classes.  The  first  class  merely 
re-state  the  denotation  ; — in  other  words,  announce  the 
ultimate  end-in-itself  of  the  system,  and  so,  properly 
speaking,  give  no  answer  at  all.  A  Utilitarian,  for  example, 
may  simply  assert  that  the  greatest  happiness  of  the 
greatest  number  is  for  him  the  ultimate  end  of  action.  If 
he  stops  there  he  evidently  shows  no  philosophic  reason  for 
distinguishing  the  system  he  adopts  from  the  countless 
others  which  exist,  or  have  existed.  If  he  attempts  to  give 
any  further  characteristic  of  his  system,  he  then  belongs  to 
the  second  class,  who  do  indeed  explain  the  connotation  of 


348        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [app. 

the  word  *  moral '  according  to  their  usage  of  it,  but  whose 
explanations  have,  and  can  have,  nothing  to  do  with  the 
■grounds  of  action  or  the  theory  of  obligation.  The  sanction 
of  conscience^  the  emotion  of  approval,  the  expectation  of 
reward,  the  feeling  of  good  desert,  glow  of  conscious  merit — 
these  are  all  most  undoubtedly  marks  or  characteristics  of 
moral  actions  :  how  they  came  to  be  so,  whether  by  educa- 
tion, association  of  ideas,  innate  tendency,  or  howsoever  it 
has  happened,  matters  nothing  whatever,  except  to  the 
psychologist ;  that  they  are  so  is  certain,  but  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  fact  is  habitually  misunderstood.  Are  they 
simply  the  causes  of  good  action  }  Then  they  have  nothing 
to  do  with  Ethics,  which  is  concerned  not  with  the  causes 
but  with  the  grounds  or  reasons  for  action,  and  would 
remain  wholly  unchanged  if  not  a  single  man  ever  had 
done  or  could  do  right.  Are  they  the  ends  of  action  t  Is 
the  fact  that  they  are  obtained  by  a  certain  course  a  valid 
reason  for  pursuing  that  course }  In  that  case  they  stand 
to  a  person  holding  that  opinion  in  precisely  the  same 
relation  as  money  does  to  the  miser,  or  revenge  to  the 
savage.  They  are  the  groundwork  of  an  ethical  system, 
and  to  state  them  is  simply  to  denote  what  ethical  system 
it  is  which  is  being  alluded  to.  Are  they,  finally,  not  ends 
of  action,  but  merely  marks  by  which  certain  actions  may 
be  known  to  belong  to  a  particular  system  ?  In  that  case, 
and  for  that  very  reason,  they  can  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  grounds  or  theory  of  obligation.  Therefore,  I  am 
justified  in  asserting  that  though  under  the  general  name 
'  ethical '  are  included  not  only  moral,  but  also  non-moral 
and  immoral  systems,  the  distinctions  regarded  from  the 
outside  between  these  subdivisions  are  not  essential,  and 
has  no  philosophic  import — which  was  the  thing  to  be 
proved. 


App.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS  349 

Before  concluding  these  remarks,  I  would  point  out 
three  corollaries  that  may  be  drawn  from  them,  which  are 
not  without •rinterest.  The  first  corollary  is — that  no  in- 
structive analogy  exists  between  Ethics  and  Esthetics. 
It  is  true,  no  doubt,  that  philosophers  have  talked  about 
the  Good  and  the  Beautiful,  as  if  they  were  co-ordinate 
subjects  of  investigation,  and  that  in  ordinary  language  we 
say  both  that  a  picture  '  ought '  to  be  admired,  and  that  an 
action  '  ought '  to  be  performed.  Nevertheless,  reflecting 
on  actual  or  possible  aesthetic  systems,  it  would  seem  clear 
that  they  must  be  included  under  one  of  four  heads. 
They  must  belong  either  (i)  to  Ethics,  or  (2)  to  Psy- 
chology, or  (3)  to  Metaphysics,  or,  lastly  (4)  to  Metaphysics 
with  an  ethical  or  psychological  element  superadded.  And 
in  none  of  these  cases  can  Esthetics  be  said  to  rank  as  a 
parallel  subject  of  enquiry  with  Ethics. 

The  first  of  these  possibilities,  namely,  that  Esthetics 
belongs  to,  or  is  included  in  Ethics,  I  mention  chiefly  for 
the  sake  of  completeness.  Even  those  art-critics  whose 
denunciations  of  bad  taste  approach  most  nearly  to  the 
level  of  moral  reprobation,  hardly  maintain  that  it  is  our 
duty  to  admire  the  Venus  of  Milo  in  the  same  sense  as  it  is 
our  duty  to  love  our  neighbour.  If  any  do  hold  this  view, 
the  conclusion  to  be  drawn  is,  not  that  their  Esthetic 
code  stands  on  a  different,  but  similar  platform  to  their 
Ethical  code,  but  that  their  Ethical  code  is  larger  than  that 
of  ordinary  people,  by  the  whole  amount  of  their  Esthetics. 

According  to  the  second  of  these  possibilities,  namely, 
that  ^Esthetics  belongs  to  Psychology  ;  Esthetics  is  merely 
the  investigation  of  the  nature  and  causes  of  peculiar 
emotions— chiefly  secondary — produced  in  us  by  certain 
external  causes,  objects,  or  representations,  and  has  no 
more  to  do  with  Ethics,  either  by  way  of  resemblance  or 


350        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [app. 

contrast,  than   any  other  part  of  the  science  to  which  it 
belongs. 

The  third  possibility,  namely,  that  Esthetics  belongs 
to  Metaphysics,  includes  all  such  theories  of  the  Beautiful 
as  deal  exclusively  with  '  objective  standards,'  *  ideas,'  or 
*  archetypes,'  *  the  evolution  of  the  Idea,'  or  *  the  Perception 
of  the  agreement  of  the  Subject  and  Object,'  and  the  like. 
Taken  by  themselves,  theories  of  this  kind  belong  to  Meta- 
physics ;  but  if  there  be  added  any  consideration  of  the 
relation  such  ontological  entities  or  processes  bear  to  the 
individual,  these  considerations  must  belong  either  to  the 
first  or  the  second  of  the  above-mentioned  possible  treat- 
ments of  Esthetics,  and  must,  therefore,  be  either  ethical 
or  psychological.     This  is  the  fourth  possibility. 

From  this  concise  analysis  then,  it  would  seem  clear 
that  no  analogy  exists  between  Ethics  rightly  understood 
and  any  system  right  or  wrong  of  ^Esthetics.  But  if  that 
be  so,  how  comes  the  existence  of  any  analogy  even  to 
have  been  supposed  }  The  reply  to  this  is,  that  there  does 
exist  an  analogy  between  some  theories  of  Esthetics  and 
Ethics  wrongly  understood.  Some  moralists,  for  example, 
have  dwelt  largely  on  the  emotion  excited  in  us  by  virtuous 
actions.  And  if  the  scientific  examination  of  these 
emotions  really  constitute  the  essence  of  Ethics,  there  is 
unquestionably  an  analogy  between  theories  of  the  Good 
and  some  theories  of  the  Beautiful.  Again,  if  ethical  en- 
quiries are  thought  to  resolve  themselves  into  researches 
concerning  the  existence  and  nature  of  some  objective 
standard  of  right,  it  is  inevitable  that  they  should  suggest, 
and  it  is  probable  they  would  resemble,  those  other  meta- 
physical enquiries  concerning  the  objective  standard  of 
beauty.  Now  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  I  pronounce 
either  of  these  investigations  irrational  ;  all  I  contend  for 


APP.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  351 

is  that  they  are  not  ethical ;  or,  rather  (to  avoid  a  dispute 
about  words),  what  I  contend  for  is  that  they  have  nothing, 
and  can  have  nothing,  directly  to  do  with  Obligation. 

The  second  corollary  concerns  the  functions  of  the 
Moral  Philosopher.  It  is  clear  from  what  precedes,  that  it 
is  not  the  business  of  the  moral  philosopher  to  account  for 
the  origin  of  moral  ideas,  or  to  analyse  and  explain  that 
growth  of  sentiment  which  collects  around  the  time- 
honoured  maxims  of  current  morality.  These  are'  topics 
which  belong  to  Psychology.  Neither  is  he  expected  to 
prove  the  propositions  which  lie  at  the  root  of  any  system 
of  morals  ;  for  these  are  incapable  of  proof.  Nor,  for  the 
same  reason,  can  he  justify  the  judgments  which  declare 
which  of  two  final  ends  is  to  be  preferred  in  case  of  con- 
flict, or  how  much  of  one  is  to  be  preferred  to  how  much  of 
the  other.  Nor,  in  reality,  has  he  any  but  a  subordinate 
part  to  play  in  expounding  or  deducing  the  derivative  rules 
of  morality ;  and  for  this  reason. 

The  deduction  of  any  derivative  rule  is  always  neces- 
sarily in  this  form  :  *  the  happiness  of  mankind  ought  to  be 
promoted '  (this,  let  us  say,  is  the  ultimate  unprovable 
foundation  of  the  system) :  *  monogamy  promotes  the  hap- 
piness of  mankind  '  (this  is  the  scientific  [in  another  system 
it  might  have  been  theological]  minor  premiss) :  '  therefore 
monogamy  is  a  system  which  ought  to  be  supported;' 
This  is  the  required  derivative  rule.  Now  the  only  diffi- 
culty in  deducing  this  conclusion  from  the  first  principle  of 
the  system  lies  in  the  difficulty  of  demonstrating  the  minor 
premiss  ;  in  other  words,  it  lies  in  the  difficulty  of  a  certain 
sociological  investigation,  which  the  speculative  moralist  as 
such  cannot  be  expected  to  undertake. 

The  important  duties  of  the  moralist,  for  he  has  impor- 
tant  duties,  arise   from   the   confused   state  in  which  the 


352        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [app. 

greater  part  of  mankind  are  with  regard  to  their  ethical 
first  principles.  The  two  questions  each  man  has  to  ask 
himself  are — What  do  I  hold  to  be  the  ultimate  ends  of 
action  ?  and — If  there  is  more  than  one  such  end,  how  do 
I  estimate  them  in  case  of  conflict  ?  These  two  questions, 
it  will  be  observed,  are  questions  of  fact,  not  of  law  ;  and  the 
duty  of  the  moralist  is  to  help  his  readers  to  discover  the 
fact,  not  to  force  his  own  view  down  their  throat  by 
attempting  a  proof  of  that  which  is  essentially,  and  by  its 
very  nature,  incapable  of  proof  Above  all,  he  must  beware 
of  substituting  some  rude  simplification  for  (what  may 
perhaps  be)  the  complexity  of  nature,  by  deducing  (as  the 
Utilitarians  do)  all  subordinate  rules  from  one  fundamental 
principle,  when,  it  may  be,  this  principle  only  approximately 
contains  actual  existing  ethical  facts. 

Since  these  two  questions  can  be  answered,  not  by 
ratiocination,  but  only  by  simple  inspection,  the  art  of  the 
moralist  will  consist  in  placing  before  the  enquirer  various 
problems  in  Ethics  free  from  the  misleading  particulars 
which  surround  them  in  practice.  In  other  words,  his 
method  will  be  casuistical,  and  not  dogmatic. 

It  may  perhaps  seem  strange  that,  after  commenting  at 
some  length  on  the  prevailing  confusion  between  Ethics 
and  Psychology,  I  should  now  have  to  announce  that  the 
business  of  the  Ethical  Philosopher  (at  least,  so  far  as  first 
principles  are  concerned)  is  as  purely  psychological  as, 
according  to  the  two  preceding  paragraphs,  I  make  it  out 
to  be  ;  and  it  may  seem,  therefore,  as  if  the  difference 
between  my  view  and  that  of  the  Philosophers  whom  I 
have  attempted  to  criticise  is  by  no  means  essential  or 
important.  This,  however,  is  not  the  case.  My  complaint 
against  these  philosophers  is  that  they  appear  to  suppose 
that  a  psychological  law  can  serve  as  a  rational  basis  for 


APP.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  353 

an  ethical  system  ;  so  that  their  chief  aim  often  seems  to 
have  been  the  estabhshment  of  their  own  particular  views 
on  the  origin  and  nature  of  our  moral  sentiments.  I,  on 
the  other  hand,  altogether  deny  the  possibility  of  such  a 
basis,  and  maintain  that  all  that  a  moralist  can  do  with 
regard  to  ethical  first  principles  is,  not  to  prove  them  or 
deduce  them,  but  to  render  them  explicit  if  they  are 
implicit,  clear  if  they  are  obscure.  To  do  this  effectually 
he  must,  of  course,  treat  of  ideas  and  motions,  and  his 
work  will,  therefore,  in  some  sense  be  undoubtedly  psycho- 
logical. To  make  this  statement  complete,  I  should  add, 
that  (as  appears  by  my  next  paragraph)  there  is  no  absur- 
dity in  supposing  that  a  moralist  may  in  the  course  of  his 
speculations  hit  on  some  entirely  new  first  principle  which 
he  has  riot  held  even  obscurely  before,  but  which  commends 
itself  to  his  mind  as  soon  as  it  is  presented  to  him. 

The  third  corollary  I  draw  is  this — that  there  are  only 
two  senses  in  which  we  can  rationally  talk  of  a  moral 
system  being  superior  to  the  one  we  profess.  According 
to  the  first  sense,  superior  means  superior  in  form,  more 
nearly  in  accordance  with  the  ideal  of  an  ethical  system 
just  sketched  out.  According  to  the  second  sense,  in 
which  the  superiority  attaches  to  the  matter  of  the 
system,  it  can  only  mean  that  the  system  is  one  of  which 
we  are  ignorant,  but  which  we  should  adopt  if  presented 
to  us.  The  superiority  indicated  is  a  hypothetical  supe- 
riority. 

Now  it  must  be  observed  that  the  sense  in  which  we. 
speak  of  other  hypothetical  systems  as  being  superior  to 
our  own,  is  by  no  means  identical  with  that  in  which  we 
speak  of  our  own  as  being  superior  to  that  of  other  people. 
Looking  back  over  history,  we  perceive  a  change  and 
development  of  the  moral  ideas  of  the  race  in  the  direction 

A  A 


354        A  DEFENCE  OF  PHILOSOPHIC  DOUBT.       [app. 

of  the  systems  which  now  prevail ;  and  this  change  we 
rightly  term  an  improvement.  But  if,  arguing  from  the 
past,  we  suppose  that  this  improvement  will  continue 
through  the  indefinite  future,  we  are  misled  by  a  false 
analogy.  The  change  may  very  well  continue,  the  im- 
provement certainly  will  not.  And  the  reason  is  clear. 
What  we  mean,  or  ought  to  mean,  by  an  improvement  in 
the  past,  is  an  approach  to  our  own  standard,  and  since 
any  change  at  all  corresponding  in  magnitude  to  this  in  the 
future  must  involve  a  departure  from  that  standard,  it  must 
necessarily  be  a  change  for  the  worse. 

In  other  words, — when  we  speak  of  another  system  as 
being  superior  (in  matter)  to  our  own,  we  speak  of  a 
possible  system  which  we  should  accept  if  we  knew  it. 
When  we  speak  of  our  own  system  being  superior  to  that 
of  some  other  person,  we  assert  the  superiority  uncondition- 
ally, and  quite  irrespectively  of  the  possible  acceptance  of 
it  by  that  other  person,  supposing  him  to  be  acquainted 
with  it.  If  then  we  believe  that  development  will  proceed 
in  the  future  as  it  has  done  in  the  past,  we  must  suppose 
that  a  time  will  come  when  the  moral  ideas  of  the  world 
would  be  as  much  out  of  our  reach,  supposing  them  pre- 
sented to  us,  as  ours  would  be  out  of  reach  of  primitive 
man.  This  is  also  true  of  scientific  ideas :  but  there  is 
this  difTerence  between  them,  that  whereas  the  change  in 
scientific  ideas  may  be  an  improvement,  that  in  moral 
ideas  must  be  a  degradation.  The  grounds  of  this  dis- 
tinction of  course  are  obvious,  viz.,  that  the  standard  of 
excellence  in  the  case  of  scientific  ideas  is,  or  is  supposed  to 
be,  conformity  to  an  infinitely  complex  external  world  :— 
a  conformity  which  may  increase  with  every  change  in  the 
ideas.  The  standard  of  excellence,  on  the  other  hand,  in 
moral  ideas  must  necessarily  be  conformity  to  our  actual 


APP.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  ETHICS.  355 

ideal,  and  this  conformity  must  diminish  with  every  change 
in  the  ideas. 

This  point  would  not  perhaps  have  been  worth  dwelling 
on,  if  it  was  not  that  the  discussion  brings  into  strong 
relief  the  nature,  so  far  as  form  is  concerned,  of  the 
criterion  of  right,  and  also  has  some  bearing  on  current 
theories  of  optimistic  evolution,  with  which  I  confess  it 
does  not  seem  possible  easily  to  reconcile  it. 


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